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THE RIVALS 



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THE RIVALS- A Com- 
edy ° By Richard Brinsley 




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Sheridan ° Illustrated by Frank 
M. Gregory . . . 





NEW YORK: DODD, MEAD 
& COMPANY. MDCCCXCIII 






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Copyright, rSSg, 
By White & Allen. 

Copyright, iSqj, 
By Dodd, Mead akd Company 



\* 



•/// rights reserved. 



JEppograpiip 

BV C. J. PETERS AND SON, 

Boston. 



flrfsstuorfe 

P.Y JOHN WILSON AND SON, 
Cambridge. 




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By 



RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 



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ILLUSTRATED 
BY 



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1ST 








AQUARELLES. 

Frontispiece. Bob Acres. 

Sir Anthony Absolute, Mrs. Malaprop, and Lydia. 

Captain Absolute 's Lodgings. 

Sir Lucius O' Trigger dictating the Challenge. 

Sir Anthony Absolute and Mrs. Malaprop. 



3- 

4- 
5- 



BLACK AND WHITE. 



Page 



Tailpiece to Prologue 23 

Fag and Thomas 29 

Interior of Gyde's Porch 35 



Court- Yard of Gyde's Porch . 
Lydia and Lucy 



6. Lucy 



37 
43 
47 



7- 
8. 

9- 
10. 



"Dear Simplicity" 5; 



Fag 



60 



"Odd's Whips and Wheels!" 61 

Absolute, Faulkland, and Acres • 64 



List of Illustrations. 



BLACK AND WHITE- {continued). 

Page 

ii. Vignette. Acres. "Good apartments. Jack' 1 ... 65 

12. "So expert at her Harpsichord" 67 

13. Vignette. Bob Acres 72 

14. Sir Anthony and Captain Absolute . 77 

15. Vignette. The North Parade 82 

16. Sir Lucius O'Trigger and Lucy 83 

17. Absolute. "Not to please your father, sir ?" . . 91 

18. Vignette. Sir Anthony Absolute 94 

19. Faulkland and Julia 99 

20. Captain Absolute and Mrs. Malaprop 103 

21. Absolute. "Thus then let me enforce my suit". . m 

22. Vignette. Clod Hall 115 

23. Vignette. Sir Lucius O'Trigger 117 

24. Vignette. Blunderbuss Hall 119 

25. Vignette. The Challenge 121 

2 g i< * * * j ust the place where i could make a shift 

to do without it " i 24 

27. Acres and David 127 

28. Lydia and Mrs. Malaprop 133 

29. Absolute. "Nay, nay, ma'am — " 141 

30. Lydia and Julia 157 

31. Lydia. "There would he kneel to me in the snow — " 160 

32. Fag. " Not a step before the ladies for the world ! " 163 

33. Vignette, Absolute. "How shall I escape him?" . 165 

34. Sir Anthony. "Nay, let me see your taste — " . . 167 

35. The Duel 173 

36. " And at night we will drink a health to the young 

COUPLES — *' iSl 

37. Tailpiece 184 

38. Tailpiece to the Epilogue 27 



THE RIVALS. 

A COMEDY. 




AS ORIGINALLY ACTED AT COVENT-GARDEN THEATRE IN 1 775. 

Sir Anthony Absolute Mr. Shuter. 

Captain Absolute Mr. Woodward. 

Faulkland Mr. Lends. 

Acres Mr. Quick. 

Sir Lucius O'Trigger Mr. Lee. 

Fag Mr. Lee Lewes. 

David Mr. Dunstal. 

Thomas Mr. Fearon. 

Mrs. Malaprop Mrs. Green. 

Lydia Languish Miss Barsanti. 

Julia Mrs. Bulkley. 

Lucy Mrs, Lessingham. 

Maid, Boy, Servants, etc. 

SCENE. — Bath. 
Time of Action. — Five Hours. 




A preface to a play seems generally to be considered 
as a kind of closet-prologue, in which — if his piece has 
been successful — the author solicits that indulgence from 
the reader which he had before experienced from the 
audience : but as the scope and immediate object of a play 
is to please a mixed assembly in representation (whose judg- 
ment in a theatre at least is decisive), its degree of reputa- 
tion is usually as determined as public, before it can be 
prepared for the cooler tribunal of the study. Thus any 
farther solicitude on the part of the writer becomes unne- 
cessary at least, if not an intrusion : and if the piece has 
been condemned in the performance, I fear an address to 
the closet, like an appeal to posterity, is constantly regarded 
as the procrastination of a suit, from a consciousness of 
the weakness of the cause. From these considerations, the 



ii 



1 2 Preface. 

following comedy would certainly have been submitted to 
the reader, without any farther introduction than what it 
had in the representation, but that its success has probably 
been founded on a circumstance which the author is in- 
formed has not before attended a theatrical trial, and which 
consequently ought not to pass unnoticed. 

I need scarcely add, that the circumstance alluded to was 
the withdrawing of the piece, to remove those imperfections 
in the first representation which were too obvious to escape 
reprehension, and too numerous to admit of a hasty cor- 
rection. There are few writers, I believe, who, even in the 
fullest consciousness of error, do not wish to palliate the 
faults which they acknowledge ; and, however trifling 
the performance, to second their confession of its deficien- 
cies, by whatever plea seems least disgraceful to their 
ability. In the present instance, it cannot be said to amount 
either to candour or modesty in me, to acknowledge an 
extreme inexperience and want of judgment on matters, in 
which, without guidance from practice, or spur from success, 
a young man should scarcely boast of being an adept. If it 
be said, that under such disadvantages no one should attempt 
to write a play, I must beg leave to dissent from the posi- 
tion, while the first point of experience that I have gained 
on the subject is a knowledge of the candour and judgment 
with which an impartial public distinguishes between the 
errors of inexperience and incapacity, and the indulgence 
which it shows even to a disposition to remedy the defects 
of either. 

It were unnecessary to enter into any farther extenuation 
of what was thought exceptionable in this play, but that it 



Preface. 1 3 

has been said, that the managers should have prevented 
some of the defects before its appearance to the public — 
and in particular the uncommon length of the piece as 
represented the first night. It were an ill return for the 
most liberal and gentlemanly conduct on their side, to suffer 
any censure to rest where none was deserved. Hurry in 
writing has long been exploded as an excuse for an author ; 
— however, in the dramatic line, it may happen, that both 
an author and a manager may wish to fill a chasm in the 
entertainment of the public with a hastiness not altogether 
culpable. The season was advanced when I first put the 
play into Mr. Harris's hands : it was at that time at least 
double the length of any acting comedy. I profited by his 
judgment and experience in the curtailing of it — till, I 
believe, his feeling for the vanity of a young author got the 
better of his desire for correctness, and he left many excres- 
cences remaining, because he had assisted in pruning so 
many more. Hence, though I was not uninformed that the 
acts were still too long, I flattered myself that, after the 
first trial, I might with safer judgment proceed to remove 
what should appear to have been most dissatisfactory. 
Many other errors there were, which might in part have 
arisen from my being by no means conversant with plays in 
general, either in reading or at the theatre. Yet I own 
that, in one respect, I did not regret my ignorance : for as 
my first wish in attempting a play was to avoid every 
appearance of plagiary, I thought I should stand a better 
chance of effecting this from being in a walk which I had 
not frequented, and where, consequently, the progress of 
invention was less likely to be interrupted by starts of 



1 4 Preface. 

recollection : for on subjects on which the mind has been 
much informed, invention is slow of exerting itself. Faded 
ideas float in the fancy like half-forgotten dreams ; and the 
imagination in its fullest enjoyments becomes suspicious 
of its offspring, and doubts whether it has created or 
adopted. 

With regard to some particular passages which on the 
first night's representation seemed generally disliked, I con- 
fess, that if I felt any emotion of surprise at the disap- 
probation, it was not that they were disapproved of, but 
that I had not before perceived that they deserved it. As 
some part of the attack on the piece was begun too early 
to pass for the sentence of judgment, which is ever tardy 
in condemning, it has been suggested to me, that much 
of the disapprobation must have arisen from virulence of 
malice, rather than severity of criticism : but as I was more 
apprehensive of there being just grounds to excite the latter 
than conscious of having deserved the former, I continue 
not to believe that probable, which I am sure must have 
been unprovoked. However, if it was so, and I could even 
mark the quarter from whence it came, it would be ungen- 
erous to retort : for no passion suffers more than malice 
from disappointment. For my own part, I see no reason 
why the author of a play should not regard a first night's 
audience as a candid and judicious friend attending, in 
behalf of the public, at his last rehearsal. If he can dis- 
pense with flattery, he is sure at least of sincerity, and even 
though the annotation be rude, he may rely upon the just- 
ness of the comment. Considered in this light, that 
audience, whose fiat is essential to the poet's claim, whether 



Preface. 15 

his object be fame or profit, has surely a right to expect 
some deference to its opinion, from principles of politeness 
at least, if not from gratitude. 

As for the little puny critics, who scatter their peevish 
strictures in private circles, and scribble at every author 
who has the eminence of being unconnected with them, as 
they are usually spleen-swoln from a vain idea of increasing 
their consequence, there will always be found a petulance 
and illiberality in their remarks, which should place them 
as far beneath the notice of a gentleman, as their original 
dulness had sunk them from the level of the most unsuc- 
cessful author. 

It is not without pleasure that I catch at an opportunity 
of justifying myself from the charge of intending any 
national reflection in the character of Sir Lucius O'Trigger. 
If any gentlemen opposed the piece from that idea, I thank 
them sincerely for their opposition ; and if the condemna- 
tion of this comedy (however misconceived the provocation) 
could have added one spark to the decaying flame of 
national attachment to the country supposed to be reflected 
on, I should have been happy in its fate ; and might with 
truth have boasted, that it had done more real service in its 
failure, than the successful morality of a thousand stage- 
novels will ever effect. 

It is usual, I believe, to thank the performers in a new 
play, for the exertion of their several abilities. But where 
(as in this instance) their merit has been so striking and 
uncontroverted, as to call for the warmest and truest 
applause from a number of judicious audiences, the poet's 
after-praise comes like the feeble acclamation of a child to 



1 6 Preface. 

close the shouts of a multitude. The conduct, however, of 
the principals in a theatre cannot be so apparent to the 
public. I think it therefore but justice to declare, that from 
this theatre (the only one I can speak of from experience) 
those writers who wish to try the dramatic line will meet 
with that candour and liberal attention, which are generally 
allowed to be better calculated to lead genius into excel- 
lence, than either the precepts of judgment, or the guidance 
of experience. 

THE AUTHOR. 




BY THE AUTHOR. 



SPOKEN BY MR. WOODWARD AND MR. QUICK. 



Enter Serjeant-at-Law, and Attorney following, and 

giving a paper. 

Serj. What's here ! a vile cramp hand ! I cannot see 
Without my spectacles. 

Att. He means his fee. 

Nay, Mr. Serjeant, good sir, try again. [Gives money.] 

Serj. The scrawl improves ! [more] O come, 't is pretty 
plain. 
Hey ! how 's this ? Dibble ! sure it cannot be ! 
A poet's brief! a poet and a fee! 

Att. Yes, sir ! though you without reward, I know, 
Would gladly plead the Muse's cause. 

17 



1 8 Prologue. 

Serj. So ! so ! 

Att. And if the fee offends, your wrath should fall 
On me. 

Serj. Dear Dibble, no offence at all. 

Att. Some sons of Phoebus in the courts we meet, 

Serj. And fifty sons of Phoebus in the Fleet ! 

Att. Nor pleads he worse, who with a decent sprig 
Of bays adorns his legal waste of wig. 

Serj. Full-bottom'd heroes thus, on signs, unfurl 
A leaf of laurel in a grove of curl ! 
Yet tell your client, that, in adverse days, 
This wig is warmer than a- bush of bays. 

Att. Do you, then, sir, my client's place supply, 
Profuse of robe, and prodigal of tie — 
Do 'you, with all those blushing powers of face, 
And wonted bashful hesitating grace, 
Rise in the court, and flourish on the case. [Exit. 

Serj. For practice then suppose — this brief will show 
it,— 
Me, Serjeant Woodward, — counsel for the poet. 
Used to the ground, I know 'tis hard to deal 
With this dread court, from whence there's no appeal ; 
No tricking here, to blunt the edge of law, 
Or, damn'd in equity, escape by flaw : 
But judgment given, your sentence must remain ; 
No writ of error lies — to Drury-lane ! 

Yet when so kind you seem, 't is past dispute 
We gain some favour, if not costs of suit. 
No spleen is here ! I see no hoarded fury ; — 
I think I never faced a milder jury ! 



Prologue. 1 9 



Sad else our plight ! where frowns are transportation, 

A hiss the gallows, and a groan damnation ! 

But such the public candour, without fear 

My client waives all right of challenge here. 

No newsman from our session is dismiss'd, 

Nor wit nor critic we scratch off the list ; 

His faults can never hurt another's ease, 

His crime, at worst, a bad attempt to please ; 

Thus, all respecting, he appeals to all, 

And by the general voice will stand or fall. 



20 Prologue. 



Prologue. 

BY THE AUTHOR. 

SPOKEN ON THE TENTH NIGHT, BY MRS. BULKLEY. 

Granted our cause, our suit and trial o'er, 
The worthy serjeant need appear no more : 
In pleasing I a different client choose, 
He served the Poet — I would serve the Muse : 
Like him, I '11 try to merit your applause, 
A female counsel in a female's cause. 

Look on this form, 1 — where humour, quaint and sly, 
Dimples the cheek, and points the beaming eye ; 
Where gay invention seems to boast its wiles 
In amorous hint, and half-triumphant smiles ; 
While her light mask or covers satire's strokes, 
Or hides the conscious blush her wit provokes. 
Look on her well — does she seem form'd to teach ? 
Should you expect to hear this lady preach ? 
Is grey experience suited to her youth ? 
Do solemn sentiments become that mouth ? 
Bid her be grave, those lips should rebel prove 
To every theme that slanders mirth or love. 

1 Pointing to the figure of Comedy. 



Prologue. 2 1 



Yet, thus adorn 'd with every graceful art 
To charm the fancy and yet reach the heart — 
Must we displace her ? And instead advance 
The goddess of the woeful countenance — 
The sentimental Muse! — Her emblems view, 
The Pilgrim's Progress, and a sprig of rue ! 
View her — too chaste to look like flesh and blood - 
Primly portray'd on emblematic wood ! 
There, fix'd in usurpation, should she stand, 
She '11 snatch the dagger from her sister's hand : 
And having made her votaries weep a flood, 
Good heaven ! she '11 end her comedies in blood — 
Bid Harry Woodward break poor Dunstal's crown ! 
Imprison Quick, and knock Ned Shuter down ; 
While sad Barsanti, weeping o'er the scene, 
Shall stab herself — or poison Mrs. Green. 

Such dire encroachments to prevent in time, 
Demands the critic's voice — the poet's rhyme. 
Can our light scenes add strength to holy laws ! 
Such puny patronage but hurts the cause: 
Fair virtue scorns our feeble aid to ask ; 
And moral truth disdains the trickster's mask, 
For here their favourite stands, 1 whose brow severe 
And sad, claims youth's respect, and pity's tear ; 
Who, when oppress'd by foes her worth creates, 
Can point a poniard at the guilt she hates 

1 Pointing to Tragedy. 



Epilogue. 

BY THE AUTHOR. 

SPOKEN BY MRS. BULKLEY. 

Ladies, for you — I heard our poet say — 

He 'd try to coax some moral from his play : 

" One moral's plain," cried I, " without more fuss ; 

Man's social happiness all rests on us : 

Through all the drama — whether damn'd or not — 

Love gilds the scene, and women guide the plot. 

From every rank obedience is our clue — ■ 

D'ye doubt ? — The world's great stage shall prove it true." 

The Cit, well skill'd to shun domestic strife, 
Will sup abroad ; but first he '11 ask his wife : 
John Trot, his friend, for once will do the same, 
But then — he '11 just step home to tell his dame. 

The surly squire at noon resolves to rule, 
And half the day — Zounds ! madam is a fool ! 
Convinced at night, the vanquished victor says, 
Ah, Kate ! you women have such coaxing ways ! 

The jolly toper chides each tardy blade, 
Till reeling Bacchus calls on Love for aid : 
Then with each toast he sees fair bumpers swim, 
And kisses Chloe on the sparkling brim ! 



26 Epilogue. 

Nay, I have heard that statesmen — great and wise 
Will sometimes counsel with a lady's eyes ! 
The servile suitors watch her various face, 
She smiles preferment, or she frowns disgrace, 
Curtsies a pension here — there nods a place. 

Nor with less awe, in scenes of humbler life, 
Is view'd the mistress, or is heard the wife. 
The poorest peasant of the poorest soil, 
The child of poverty, and heir to toil, 
Early from radiant Love's impartial light 
Steals one small spark to cheer this world of night : 
Dear spark ! that oft through winter's chilling woes 
Is all the warmth his little cottage knows ! 

The wandering tar, who not for years has press'd 
The widow'd partner of his day of rest, 
On the cold deck, far from her arms removed, 
Still hums the ditty which his Susan loved ; 
And while around the cadence rude is blown, 
The boatswain whistles in a softer tone. 

The soldier, fairly proud of wounds and toil, 
Pants for the triumph of his Nancy's smile ; 
But ere the battle should he list her cries, 
The lover trembles — and the hero dies ! 
That heart, by war and honour steel'd to fear, 
Droops on a sigh, and sickens at a tear ! 

But ye more cautious, ye nice-judging few, 
Who give to beauty only beauty's due, 

Though friends to love — ye view with deep regret 
Oui conquests marr'd, our triumphs incomplete, 
Till polish'd wit more lasting charms disclose, 



Epilogue. 



27 



And judgment fix the darts which beauty throws 
In female breasts did sense and merit rule, 
The lover's mind would ask no other school ; 
Shamed into sense, the scholars of our eyes, 
Our beaux from gallantry would soon be wise ; 
Would gladly light, their homage to improve, 
The lamp of knowledge at the torch of love ! 




Sir Anthony Absolute, Mrs. Malaprop, and Lydia. 




Scene I. — A Street. 



Enter Thomas ; he crosses the Stage ; Fag follows, looking 

after him. 

Fag. What! Thomas! sure 'tis he? What! Thomas! 
Thomas ! 

Thos. Hey ! Odd's life ! Mr. Fag ! give us your 
hand, my old fellow-servant. 

Fag. Excuse my glove, Thomas : I 'm devilish glad 
to see you, my lad. Why, my prince of charioteers, you 
look as hearty! — but who the deuce thought of seeing 
you in Bath ? 

Thos. Sure, master, Madam Julia, Harry, Mrs. Kate, 
and the postilion, be all come. 

Fag. Indeed ! 

Thos. Ay, master thought another fit of the gout was 
coming to make him a visit; so he'd a mind to gi't the 
slip, and whip ! we were all off at an hour's warning. 

Fag. Ay, ay, hasty in everything, or it would, not be 
Sir Anthony Absolute ! 

Thos. But tell us, Mr. Fag, how does young master ? 
Odd ! Sir Anthony will stare to see the Captain here ! 

3 1 



32 The Rivals. 



Fag. I do not serve Captain Absolute now. 

Thos. Why sure ! 

Fag. At present I am employed by Ensign Beverley. 

Thos. I doubt, Mr. Fag, youha'n't changed for the better. 

Fag. I have not changed, Thomas. 

Thos. No ! Why, did n't you say you had left young 
master ? 

Fag. No. Well, honest Thomas, I must puzzle you 
no farther : briefly then — Captain Absolute and Ensign 
Beverley are one and the same person. 

Thos. The devil they are ! 

Fag. So it is indeed, Thomas ; and the ensign half of 
my master being on guard at present — the captain has 
nothing to do with me. 

Thos. So, so! What, this is some freak, I warrant! 
Do tell us, Mr. Fag, the meaning o't — you know I ha' 
trusted you. 

Fag. You '11 be secret, Thomas ? 

Thos. As a coach-horse. 

Fag. Why then the cause of all this is — Love, — 
Love, Thomas, who (as you may get read to you) has been 
a masquerader ever since the clays of Jupiter. 

Thos. Ay, ay ; I guessed there was a lady in the 
case : but pray, why does your master pass only for en- 
sign ? Now if he had shammed general indeed — 

Fag. Ah! Thomas, there lies the mystery o' the 
matter. Hark'ee, Thomas, my master is in love with a lady 
of a very singular taste : a lady who likes him better as a 
half-pay ensign than if she knew he was son and heir to Sir 
Anthony Absolute, a baronet of three thousand a year. 



The Rivals. 



33 



Thos. That is an odd taste indeed ! But has she got 
the stuff, Mr. Fag? Is she rich, hey? 

Fag. Rich ! Why, I believe she owns half the stocks ! 
Zounds ! Thomas, she could pay the national debt as 
easily as I could my washerwoman ! She has a lapdog 
that eats out of gold, she feeds her parrot with small 
pearls, and all her thread-papers are made of bank- 
notes ! 

Thos. Bravo, faith ! Odd ! I warrant she has a set 
of thousands at least : but does she draw kindly with 
the captain ? 

Fag. As fond as pigeons. 

Thos. May one hear her name ? 

Fag. Miss Lydia Languish. But there is an old tough 
aunt in the way ; though, by the by, she has never seen 
my master — for we got acquainted with miss while on a 
visit in Gloucestershire. 

Thos. Well — I wish they were once harnessed to- 
gether in matrimony. But pray, Mr. Fag, what kind of 
a place is this Bath? I ha' heard a deal of it — here's a 
mort o' merry-making, hey ? 

Fag. Pretty well, Thomas, pretty well — 'tis a good 
lounge ; in the morning we go to the pump-room (though 
neither my master nor I drink the waters) ; after break- 
fast we saunter on the parades, or play a game at billiards ; 
at night we dance; but damn the place, I'm tired of it: 
their regular hours stupefy me — not a fiddle nor a card 
after eleven ! However, Mr. Faulkland's gentleman and 
I keep it up a little in private parties; — I'll introduce 
you there, Thomas — you '11 like him much. 



34 The Rivals. 



Thos. Sure I know Mr. Du Peigne — you know his 
master is to marry Madam Julia. 

Fag. I had forgot. But, Thomas, you must polish a 
little — indeed you must. Here now — this wig! What 
the devil do you do with a wig, Thomas ? None of the 
London whips of any degree of ton wear wigs now. 

Thos. More 's the pity ! more 's the pity ! I say. 
Odd's life ! when I heard how the lawyers and doctors had 
took to their own hair, I thought how 't would go next : 
odd rabbit it ! when the fashion had got foot on the bar, I 
guessed 't would mount to the box! — but 't is all out of 
character, believe me, Mr. Fag : and look 'ee, I '11 never 
gi' up mine — - the lawyers and doctors may do as they will. 

Fag. Well, Thomas, we '11 not quarrel about that. 

Thos. Why, bless you, the gentlemen of the profes- 
sions ben't all of a mind — for in our village now, thoff 
Jack Gauge, the exciseman, has ta'en to his carrots, there 's 
little Dick the farrier swears he '11 never forsake his bob, 
though all the college should appear with their own heads ! 

Fag. Indeed! well said, Dick! But hold — mark! 
mark ! Thomas. 

Thos. Zooks ! 't is the captain. Is that the lady with 
him ? 

Fag. No, no, that is Madam Lucy, my master's mis- 
tress's maid. They lodge at that house — but I must 
after him to tell him the news. 

Thos. Odd! he 's giving her money ! Well, Mr. Fag — 

Fag. Good-bye, Thomas. I have an appointment in 
Gyde's Porch this evening at eight ; meet me there, and 
we '11 make a little party. [Exeunt severally. 



a 




\ 



The Rivals. 



37 




Scene II. — A Dressing-room in Mrs. Malaprop's 



Lodgings. 



Lydia sitting on a sofa, with a book in her hand. Lucy, 
asj'nst returned from a message. 

Lucy. Indeed, ma'am, I traversed half the town in 
search of it : I don't believe there 's a circulating library 
in Bath I ha'n't been at. 



38 The Rivals. 



Lyd. And could not you get The Reward of Constancy? 

Lucy. No, indeed, ma'am. 

Lyd. Nor The Fatal Connexion ? 

Lucy. No, indeed, ma'am. 

Lyd. Nor The Mistakes of the Heart ? 

Lucy. Ma'am, as ill luck would have it, Mr. Bull said 
Miss Sukey Saunter had just fetched it away. 

Lyd. Heigh-ho ! Did you inquire for The Delicate 
Distress ? 

Lucy. Or, The Memoirs of Lady Woodford? Yes, in- 
deed, ma'am. I asked everywhere for it ; and I might 
have brought it from Mr. Frederick's, but Lady Slattern 
Lounger, who had just sent it home, had so soiled and 
dog's-eared it, it wa'n't fit for a Christian to read. 

Lyd. Heigh-ho ! Yes, I always know when Lady 
Slattern has been before me. She has a most observing 
thumb ; and, I believe, cherishes her nails for the conven- 
ience of making marginal notes. Well, child, what have 
you brought me ? 

Lucy. Oh! here, ma'am. [Taking books from under 
her cloak, and from her pockets.'] This is The Gordian 
Knot, — and this Peregrine Pickle. Here are The Tears of 
Sensibility, and Humphrey Clinker. This is The Memoirs 
of a Lady of Quality, written by herself, and here the 
second volume of The Sentimental Journey. 

Lyd. Heigh-ho! What are those books by the glass ? 

Lucy. The great one is only The Whole Duty of Man, 
where I press a few blonds, ma'am. 

Lyd. Very well — give me the sal volatile. 

Lucy. Is it in a blue cover, ma'am ? 



The Rivals. 39 



Lyd. My smelling-bottle, you simpleton ! 

Lucy. Oh, the drops ! — here, ma'am. 

Lyd. Hold! — here's some one coming — quick, see 
who it is. [Exit Lucy.] Surely I heard my cousin 
Julia's voice. 

Re-enter Lucy. 

Lucy. Lud ! ma'am, here is Miss Melville. 

Lyd. Is it possible ! — \Exit Lucy. 

Enter Julia. 

Lyd. My dearest Julia, how delighted am I ! [Em- 
brace.] How unexpected was this happiness ! 

Jul. True, Lydia — and our pleasure is the greater. 
But what has been the matter? — you were denied to me 
at first ! 

Lyd. Ah, Julia, I have a thousand things to tell you ! 
But first inform me what has conjured you to Bath ? 
Is Sir Anthony here ? 

Jul. He is — we are arrived within this hour — and I 
suppose he will be here to wait on Mrs. Malaprop as soon 
as he is dressed. 

Lyd. Then before we are interrupted, let me impart to 
you some of my distress ! I know your gentle nature 
will sympathize with me, though your prudence may con- 
demn me ! My letters have informed you of my whole 
connection with Beverley ; but I have lost him, Julia ! 
My aunt has discovered our intercourse by a note she 
intercepted, and has confined me ever since ! Yet, would 
you believe it ? she has absolutely fallen in love with a tall 



40 The Rivals. 



Irish baronet she met one night since we have been here, 
at Lady Macshuffle's rout. 

Jul. You jest, Lydia ! 

Lyd. No, upon my word. She really carries on a 
kind of correspondence with him, under a feigned name 
though, till she chooses to be known to him ; but it is a 
Delia or a Celia, I assure you. 

Jul. Then, surely, she is now more indulgent to her 
niece. 

. Lyd. Quite the contrary. Since she has discovered her 
own frailty, she is become more suspicious of mine. Then 
I must inform you of another plague ! That odious Acres 
is to be in Bath to-day ; so that I protest I shall be teased 
out of .all spirits ! 

Jul. Come, come, Lydia, hope for the best — Sir An- 
thony shall use his interest with Mrs. Malaprop. 

Lyd. But you have not heard the worst. Unfortunately 
I had quarrelled with my poor Beverley, just before my 
aunt made the discovery, and I have not seen him since, to 
make it up. 

Jul. What was his offence ? 

Lyd. Nothing at all ! — But, I don't know how it was, 
as often as we had been together, we had never had a quar- 
rel, and, somehow, I was afraid he would never give me an 
opportunity. So, last Thursday, I wrote a letter to myself, 
to inform myself that Beverley was at that time paying his 
addresses to another woman. I signed it your friend un- 
kjioivn, showed it to Beverley, charged him with his false- 
hood, put myself in a violent passion, and vowed I 'd never 
see him more. 



The Rivals. 41 



Jul. And you let him depart so, and have not seen him 
since ? 

Lyd. 'T was the next day my aunt found the matter out. 
I intended only to have teased him three days and a half, 
and now I 've lost him for ever. 

Jul. If he is as deserving and sincere as you have 
represented him to me, he will never give you up so. Yet 
consider, Lydia, you tell me he is but an ensign, and you 
have thirty thousand pounds. 

Lyd. But you know I lose most of my fortune if I 
marry without my aunt's consent, till of age ; and that is 
what I have determined to do, ever since I knew the 
penalty. Nor could I love the man, who would wish to 
wait a clay for the alternative. 

Jul. Nay, this is caprice ! 

Lyd. What, doss Julia tax me with caprice ? I thought 
her lover Faulkland had inured her to it. 

Jul. I do not love even his faults. 

Lyd. But apropos — you have sent to him, I suppose ? 

Jul. Not yet, upon my word — nor has he the least idea 
of my being in Bath. Sir Anthony's resolution was so 
sudden, I could not inform him of it. 

Lyd. Well, Julia, you are your own mistress (though 
under the protection of Sir Anthony), yet have you, for 
this long year, been a slave to the caprice, the whim, the 
jealousy of this ungrateful Faulkland, who will ever delay 
assuming the right of a husband, while you suffer him to 
be equally imperious as a lover. 

Jul. Nay, you are wrong entirely. We were contracted 
before my father's death. That, and some consequent em- 



\2 The Rivals. 



barrassments, have delayed what I know to be my Falk- 
land's most ardent wish. He is too generous to trifle on 
such a point : and for his character, you wrong him there 
too. No, Lydia, he is too proud, too noble to be jealous ; 
if he is captious, 't is without dissembling ; if fretful, with- 
out rudeness. Unused to the fopperies of love, he is negli- 
gent of the little duties expected from a lover — but being 
unhackneyed in the passion, his affection is ardent and sin- 
cere ; and as it engrosses his whole soul, he expects every 
thought and emotion of his mistress to move in unison with 
his. Yet, though his pride calls for this full return, his 
humility makes him undervalue those qualities in him which 
would entitle him to it ; and not feeling why he should be 
loved to the degree he wishes, he still suspects that he is 
not loved enough. This temper, I must own, has cost me 
many unhappy hours ; but I have learned to think myself 
his debtor, for those imperfections which arise from the 
ardour of his attachment. 

Lyd. Well, I cannot blame you for defending him. But 
tell me candidly, Julia, had he never saved your life, do you 
think you should have been attached to him as you are ? 
Believe me, the rude blast that overset your boat was a 
prosperous gale of love to him. 

Jul. Gratitude may have strengthened my attachment 
to Mr. Faulkland, but I loved him before he had preserved 
me ; yet surely that alone were an obligation sufficient. 

Lyd. Obligation ! why a water spaniel would have done 
as much ! Well, I should never think of giving my heart 
to a man because he could swim. 

Jul. Come, Lydia, you are too inconsiderate. 

Lyd. Nay, I do but jest. What 's here? 



The Rivals. 45 



Re-enter Lucy in a hurry. 

Lucy. O ma'am, here is Sir Anthony Absolute just 
come home with your aunt. 

Lyd. They '11 not come here. Lucy, do you watch. 

[Exit Lucy. 

Jul. Yet I must go. Sir Anthony does not know I am 
here, and if we meet, he '11 detain me, to show me the town. 
I '11 take another opportunity of paying my respects to Mrs. 
Malaprop, when she shall treat me, as long as she chooses, 
with her select words so ingeniously misapplied, without 
being mispronounced. 

Re-enter Lucy. 

Lucy. O j^ud ! ma'am, they are both coming up-stairs. 

Lyd. Well, I '11 not detain you, coz. Adieu, my dear 
Julia, I 'm sure you are in haste to send to Faulkland. 
There — through my room you '11 find another staircase. 

Jul. Adieu! [Embraces Lydia, and exit. 

Lyd. Here, my dear Lucy, hide these books. Quick, 
quick. Fling Peregrine Pickle under the toilet — throw 
Roderick Random into the closet — put The Innocent Adul- 
tery into The Whole Duty of Man — thrust Lord Aimworth 
under the sofa — cram Ovid behind the bolster — there — 
put The Man of Feeling into your pocket — so, so — now 
lay Mrs. Chapone in sight, and leave Fordyccs Sermons open 
on the table. 

Lucy. O burn it, ma'am ! the hair-dresser has torn 
away as far as Proper Pride. 

Lyd. Nevermind — open at Sobriety. Fling me Lord 
Chesterfield's Letters. Now for 'em. [Exit Lucy. 



46 The Rivals. 



Enter Mrs. Malaprop, and Sir Anthony Absolute. 

Mrs. Mal. There, Sir Anthony, there sits the deliber- 
ate simpleton who wants to disgrace her family, and lavish 
herself on a fellow not worth a shilling. 

Lyd. Madam, I thought you once — 

Mrs. Mal. You thought, miss ! I don't know any 
business you have to think at all — thought does not be- 
come a young woman. But the point we would request 
of you is, that you will promise to forget this fellow — to 
illiterate him, I say, quite from your memory. 

Lyd. Ah, madam ! our memories are independent of 
our wills. It is not so easy to forget. 

Mrs. Mal. But I say it is, miss ; there is nothing on 
earth so easy as to forget, if a person chooses to set about 
it. I 'm sure I have as much forgot your poor dear uncle as 
if he had never existed — and I thought it my duty so to 
do ; and let me tell you, Lydia, these violent memories 
don't become a young woman. 

Sir Anth. Why sure* she won't pretend to remember 
what she 's ordered not ! — ay, this comes of her reading ! 

Lyd. What crime, madam, have I committed, to be 
treated thus ? 

Mrs. Mal. Now don't attempt to extirpate yourself 
from the matter ; you know I have proof controvertible of 
it. But tell me, will you promise to do as you 're bid ? 
Will you take a husband of your friends' choosing ? 

Lyd. Madam, I must tell you plainly, that had I no 
preference for any one else, the choice you have made 
would be my aversion. 





]K 



The Rivals. 49 



Mrs. Mal. What business have you, miss, with prefer- 
ence and aversion ? They don't become a young woman ; 
and you ought to know, that as both always wear off, 't is 
safest in matrimony to begin with a little aversion. I am 
sure I hated your poor dear uncle before marriage as if he 'd 
been a blackamoor — and yet, miss, you are sensible what a 
wife I made ! — and when it pleased heaven to release me 
from him, 't is unknown what tears I shed ! But suppose 
we were going to give you another choice, will you promise 
us to give up this Beverley ? 

Lyd. Could I belie my thoughts so far as to give that 
promise, my actions would certainly as far belie my words. 

Mrs. Mal. Take yourself to your room. You are fit 
company for nothing but your own ill-humours. 

Lyd. Willingly, ma'am — I cannot change for the 
worse. [Exit. 

Mrs. Mal. There's a little intricate hussy for you ! 

Sir Axth. It is not to be wondered at, ma'am, — all 
this is the natural consequence of teaching girls to read. 
Had I a thousand daughters, by Heaven ! I 'd as soon have 
them taught the black art as their alphabet ! 

Mrs. Mal. Nay, nay, Sir Anthony, you are an absolute 
misanthropy. 

Sir Axth. In my way hither, Mrs. Malaprop, I observed 
your niece's maid coming forth from a circulating library ! 
She had a book in each hand — they were half-bound 
volumes, with marble covers ! From that moment I guessed 
how full of duty I should see her mistress ! 

Mrs. Mal. Those are vile places, indeed ! 

Sir Anth. Madam, a circulating library in a town is 



50 The Rivals. 



as an evergreen tree of diabolical knowledge ! It blossoms 
through the year! And depend on it, Mrs. Malaprop, 
that they who are so fond of handling the leaves, will long 
for the fruit at last. 

Mrs. Mal. Fy, fy, Sir Anthony ! you surely speak 
laconically. 

Sir Anth. Why, Mrs. Malaprop, in moderation now, 
what would you have a woman know ? 

Mrs. Mal. Observe me, Sir Anthony. I would by no 
means wish a daughter of mine to be a progeny of learning; 
I don't think so much learning becomes a young woman ; 
for instance, I would never let her meddle with Greek, or 
Hebrew, or algeDra, or simony, or fluxions, or paradoxes, or 
such inflammatory branches of learning — neither would it 
be necessary for her to handle any of your mathematical, 
astronomical, diabolical instruments. But, Sir Anthony, I 
would send her, at nine years old, to a boarding-school, in 
order to learn a little ingenuity and artifice. Then, sir, she 
should have a supercilious knowledge in accounts; — and as 
she grew up, I would have her instructed in geometry, that 
she might know something of the contagious countries ; 
but above all, Sir Anthony, she should be mistress of 
orthodoxy, that she might not mis-spell, and mis-pronounce 
words so shamefully as girls usually do ; and likewise that 
she might reprehend the true meaning of what she is say- 
ing. This, Sir Anthony, is what I would have a woman 
know; — and I don't think there is a superstitious article 
in it. 

Sir Anth. Well, well, Mrs. Malaprop, I will dispute the 
point no further with you ; though I must confess, that you 



The Rivals. 5 1 



are a truly moderate and polite arguer, for almost every 
third word you say is on my side of the question. But, Mrs. 
Malaprop, to the more important point in debate — you say 
you have no objection to my proposal ? 

Mrs. Mal. None, I assure you. I am under no positive 
eno-ao-ement with Mr. Acres, and as Lydia is so obstinate 
against him, perhaps your son may have better success. 

Sir Anth. Well, madam, I will write for the boy 
directly. He knows not a syllable of this yet, though I 
have for some time had the proposal in my head. He is at 
present with his regiment. 

Mrs. Mal. We have never seen your son, Sir An- 
thony ; but I hope no objection on his sidq. 

Sir Anth. Objection! let him object if he dare! No, 
no, Mrs. Malaprop, Jack knows that the least demur puts 
me in a frenzy directly. My process was always very 
simple — in their younger days, 't was "Jack, do this ; " — 
if he demurred, I knocked him down — and if he grumbled 
at that, I always sent him out of the room. 

Mrs. Mal. Ay, and the properest way, o' my con- 
science ! — nothing is so conciliating to young people as 
severity. Well, Sir Anthony, I shall give Mr. Acres his 
discharge, and prepare Lydia to receive your son's invoca- 
tions ; and I hope you will represent her to the captain 
as an object not altogether illegible. 

Sir Anth. Madam, I will handle the subject prudently. 
Well, I must leave you ; and let me beg you, Mrs. Malaprop, 
to enforce this matter roundly to the girl. Take my advice 
— keep a tight hand : if she rejects this proposal, clap her 
under lock and key ; and if you were just to let the ser- 



52 The Rivals. 



vants forget to bring her dinner for three or four clays, you 
can't conceive how she 'd come about. [Exit. 

Mrs. Mal. Well, at any rate I shall be glad to get her 
from under my intuition. She has somehow discovered 
my partiality for Sir Lucius O'Trigger — sure, Lucy can't 
have betrayed me ! No, the girl is such a simpleton, I 
should have made her confess it. Lucy ! Lucy ! [Calls.'] 
Had she been one of your artificial ones, I should never 
have trusted her. 

Re-enter Lucy. 

Lucy. Did you call, ma'am ? 

Mrs. Mal. Yes, girl. Did you see Sir Lucius while 
you was out ? 

Lucy. No, indeed, ma'am, not a glimpse of him. 

Mrs. Mal. You are sure, Lucy, that you never men- 
tioned — 

Lucy. Oh gemini ! I 'd sooner cut my tongue out. 

Mrs. Mal. Well, don't let your simplicity be imposed 
on. 

Lucy. No, ma'am. 

Mrs. Mal. So, come to me presently, and I '11 give you 
another letter to Sir Lucius ; but mind, Lucy — if ever you 
betray what you are entrusted with (unless it be other 
people's secrets to me), you forfeit my malevolence for ever ; 
and your being a simpleton shall be no excuse for your 
locality. [Exit. 

Lucy. Ha ! ha ! ha ! So, my dear Simplicity, let me 
give you a little respite. [Altering her maimer.] Let girls 
in my station be as fond as they please of appearing expert 



The Rivals. 55 



and knowing in their trusts ; commend me to a mask of 
silliness and a pair of sharp eyes for my own interest under 
it ! Let me see to what account have I turned my simpli- 
city lately. [Looks at a paper.~\ For abetting Miss Lydia 
Languish in a design of running away with an ensign ! — 
in money, sundry times, twelve pound twelve ; gowns, Jive ; 
hats, ruffles, caps, etc., etc., number/ess ! From the said en- 
sign, within this last month, six guineas and a half. About 
a quarter's pay! Item, from Mrs. Ma lap rop, for betraying 
the young people to her — when I found matters were likely 
to be discovered — two guineas, and a black paduasoy. Item, 
from Mr. Acres, for carrying divers letters — which I never 
delivered — two guineas, and a pair of buckles. Item, from 
Sir Lucius 0" 1 Trigger, three crowns, two gold pocket-pieces, 
and a silver snuff-box ! Well clone, Simplicity! Yet I was 
forced to make my Hibernian believe, that he was corre- 
sponding, not with the aunt, but with the niece : for though 
not over rich, I found he had too much pride and delicacy 
to sacrifice the feelings of a gentleman to the necessities of 
his fortune. [Exit. 



r?£.~. 




Scene I. — Captain Absolute's Lodgings. 



Captain Absolute and Fag. 



Fag. Sir, while I was there Sir Anthony came in : I 
told him, you had sent me to inquire after his health, and 
to know if he was at leisure to see you. 

Abs. And what did he say, on hearing I was at Bath ? 

Fag. Sir, in my life I never saw an elderly gentleman 
more astonished ! He started back two or three paces, 
rapped out a dozen interjectural oaths, and asked, what the 
devil had brought you here. 

Abs. Well, sir, and what did you say ? 

Fag. Oh, I lied, sir — I forget the precise lie ; but you 
may depend on 't, he got no truth from me. Yet, with sub- 
mission, for fear of blunders in future, I should be glad to 
fix what has brought us to Bath ; in order that we may lie 
a little consistently. Sir Anthony's servants were curious, 
sir, very curious indeed. 

Abs. You have said nothing to them ? 

Fag. Oh, not a word, sir, — not a word ! Mr. Thomas, 

56 



Captain Absolute's Lodgings. 






The Rivals. 57 



indeed, the coachman (whom I take to be the discreetest 
of whips) — 

Abs. 'Sdeath ! you rascal ! you have not trusted him ! 

Fag. Oh, no, sir — no — no — not a syllable, upon my 
veracity ! — He was, indeed, a little inquisitive ; but I was 
sly, sir — devilish sly ! My master (said I), honest Thomas, 
(you know, sir, one says honest to one's inferiors), is come 
to Bath to recruit — Yes, sir, I said to recruit — and whether 
for men, money, or constitution, you know, sir, is nothing 
to him, nor any one else. 

Abs. Well, recruit will do — let it be so. 

Fag. Oh, sir, recruit will do surprisingly — indeed, to 
give the thing an air, I told Thomas, that your honour had 
already enlisted five disbanded chairmen, seven minority 
waiters, and thirteen billiard-markers. 

Abs. You blockhead, never say more than is necessary. 

Fag. I beg pardon, sir-- I beg pardon —but, with sub- 
mission, a lie is nothing unless one supports it. Sir, when- 
ever I draw on my invention for a good current lie, I always 
forge indorsements as well as the bill. 

Abs. Well, take care you don't hurt your credit, by 
offering too much security. Is Mr. Faulkland returned ? 

Fag. He is above, sir, changing his dress. 

Abs. Can you tell whether he has been informed of Sir 
Anthony and Miss Melville's arrival ? 

Fag. I fancy not, sir; he has seen no one since he 
came in but his gentleman, who was with him at Bristol 
I think, sir, I hear Mr. Faulkland coming down — 
Abs. Go, tell him I am here. 
Fag. Yes, sir. [Going.] I beg pardon, sir, but should 



58 The Rivals. 



Sir Anthony call, you will do me the favour to remember 
that we are recruiting, if you please. 

Abs. Well, well. 

Fag. And, in tenderness to my character, if your honour 
could bring in the chairmen and waiters, I should esteem it 
as an obligation ; for though I never scruple a lie to serve my 
master, yet it hurts one's conscience to be found out. {Exit. 

Abs. Now for my whimsical friend — if he does not 

know that his mistress is here, I '11 tease him a little before 

I tell him — 

Enter Faulkland. 

Faulkland, you're welcome to Bath again ; you are punctual 
in your return. 

Faulk. Yes ; I had nothing to detain me, when I had 
finished the business I went on. Well, what news since I 
left you? how stand matters between you and Lydia ? 

Abs. Faith, much as they were ; I have not seen her 
since our quarrel ; however, I expect to be recalled every hour. 

Faulk. Why don't you persuade her to go off with you 
at once ? 

Abs. What, and lose two-thirds of her fortune? you 
forget that, my friend. No, no, I could have brought her 
to that long ago. 

Faulk. Nay then, you trifle too long — if you are sure 
of her, propose to the aunt in your own character, and write 
to Sir Anthony for his consent. 

Abs. Softly, softly ; for though I am convinced my little 
Lydia would elope with me as Ensign Beverley, yet am I by 
no means certain that she would take me with the impedi- 
ment of our friends' consent, a regular humdrum wedding,' 



The Rivals. 59 



and the reversion of a good fortune on my side : no, no ; I 
must prepare her gradually for the discovery, and make 
myself necessary to her, before I risk it. Well, but 
Faulkland, you '11 dine with us to-day at the hotel ? 

Faulk. Indeed I cannot ; I am not in spirits to be of 
such a party. 

Abs. By heavens ! I shall forswear your company. 
You are the most teasing, captious, incorrigible lover ! 
Do love like a man. 

Faulk. I own I am unfit for company. 

Abs. Am not I a lover ; ay, and a romantic one too ? 
Yet do I carry everywhere with me such a confounded 
farrago of doubts, fears, hopes, wishes, and all the flimsy 
furniture of a country miss's brain ! 

Faulk. Ah ! Jack, your heart and soul are not, like 
mine, fixed immutably on one only object. You throw for a 
large stake, but losing, you could stake and throw again : 
but I have set my sum of happiness on this cast, and not to 
succeed, were to be stripped of all. 

Abs. But, for Heaven's sake ! what grounds for appre- 
hension can your whimsical brain conjure up at present ? 

Faulk. What grounds for apprehension, did you say ? 
Heavens ! are there not a thousand ! I fear for her spirits 
— her health — her life. My absence may fret her; her 
anxiety for my return, her fears for me may oppress her 
gentle temper : and for her health, does not every hour bring 
me cause to be alarmed ? If it rains, some shower may 
even then have chilled her delicate frame ! If the wind be 
keen, some rude blast may have affected her ! The heat of 
noon, the dews of the evening, may endanger the life of her, 



6o 



The Rivals. 



for whom only I value mine. O Jack ! when delicate and 
feeling souls are separated, there is not a feature in the sky, 
not a movement of the elements, not an aspiration of the 
breeze, but hints some cause for a lover's apprehension ! 

Abs. Ay, but we may choose 
whether we will take the hint or 
not. So, then, Faulkland, if you 
were convinced that Julia were well 
and in spirits, you would be entirely 
content ? 

Faulk. I should be happy beyond 
measure — I am anxious only for 
that. 

Abs. Then to cure your anxiety 
at once — Miss Melville is in perfect 
health, and is at this moment in 
Bath. 

Faulk. Nay, Jack — don't trifle 
with me. 

Abs. She is arrived here with 
my father within this hour. 
Faulk. Can you be serious ? 
Abs. I thought you knew Sir 
Anthony better than to be surprised 
at a sudden whim of this kind. Seriously, then, it is as 
I tell you — upon my honour. 

Faulk. My dear friend ! Hollo, Du Peigne ! my hat. 
My dear Jack — now nothing on earth can give me a 
moment's uneasiness. 




The Rivals. 63 



Re-enter Fag. 

Fag. Sir, Mr. Acres, just arrived, is below. 

Abs. Stay, Faulkland, this Acres lives within a mile of 
Sir Anthony, and he shall tell you how your mistress has 
been ever since you left her. Fag, show the gentleman up. 

[Exit Fag. 

Faulk. What, is he much acquainted in the family? 

Abs. Oh, very intimate: I insist on your not going! 
besides, his character will divert you. 

Faulk. Well, I should like to ask him a few questions. 

Abs. He is likewise a rival of mine — that is, of my 
other self's, for he does not think his friend Captain Abso- 
lute ever saw the lady in question ; and it is ridiculous 
enough to hear him complain to me of one Beverley, a 
concealed skulking rival, who — 

Faulk. Hush ! he 's here. 

Enter Acres. 

Acres. Ha ! my dear friend, noble captain, and honest 
Jack, how do'st thou ? just arrived, faith, as you see. Sir, 
your humble servant. Warm work on the roads, Jack ! 
Odd's whips and wheels ! I 've travelled like a comet, with 
a tail of dust all the way as long as the Mall. 

Abs. Ah ! Bob, you are indeed an eccentric planet, but 
we know your attraction hither. Give me leave to intro- 
duce Mr. Faulkland to you ; Mr. Faulkland, Mr. Acres. 

Acres. Sir, I am most heartily glad to see you : sir, I 
solicit your connections. Hey, Jack — what, this is Mr. 
Faulkland, who — 



6 4 



The Rivals. 




u 



V 



Abs. Ay, Bob, Miss Melville's Mr. Faulkland. 

Acres. Od'so ! she and your father can be but just 
arrived before me : I suppose you have seen them. Ah ! 
Mr. Faulkland, you are indeed a happy man. 

Faulk. I have not seen Miss Melville, yet, sir ; I hope 
she enjoyed full health and spirits in Devonshire? 

Acres. Never knew her better in my life, sir, — never 
better. Odd's blushes and blooms ! she has been as healthy 
as the German Spa. 

Faulk. Indeed ! I did hear that she had been a little 
indisposed. 

Acres. False, false, sir — only said to vex you: quite 
the reverse, I assure you. 



The Rivals. 



65 



Faulk. There, Jack, you see she has the advantage of 
me; I had almost fretted myself ill. 




Abs. Now are you angry with your mistress for not 
having been sick? 

Faulk. No, no, you misunderstand me : yet surely a 
little trifling indisposition is not an unnatural consequence 



66 The Rivals. 



of absence from those we love. Now confess — is n't 
there something unkind in this violent, robust, unfeeling 
health ? 

Abs. Oh, it was very unkind of her to be well in your 
absence, to be sure ! 

Acres. Good apartments, Jack. 

Faulk. Well, sir, but you were saying that Miss Mel- 
ville has been so exceedingly well — what then she has been 
merry and gay, I suppose ? Always in spirits — hey ? 

Acres. Merry, odd's crickets ! she has been the belle 
and spirit of the company wherever she has been — so 
lively and entertaining ! so full of wit and humour ! 

Faulk. There, Jack, there. Oh, by my soul ! there is 
an innate levity in woman, that nothing can overcome. 
What ! happy, and I away ! 

Abs. Have done. How foolish this is ! just now you 
were only apprehensive for your mistress's spirits. 

Faulk. Why, Jack, have I been the joy and spirit of 
the company ? 

Abs. No indeed, you have not. 

Faulk. Have I been lively and entertaining? 

Abs. Oh, upon my word, I acquit you. 

Faulk. Have I been full of wit and humour ? 

Abs. No, faith, to do you justice, you have been con- 
foundedly stupid indeed. 

Acres. What 's the matter with the gentleman ? 

Abs. He is only expressing his great satisfaction at 
hearing that Julia has been so well and happy — that 's all 
— hey, Faulkland ? 

Faulk. Oh ! I am rejoiced to hear it — yes, yes, she- 
has a happy disposition ! 



The Rivals. 69 



Acres. That she has indeed — then she is so accom- 
plished — so sweet a voice — so expert at her harpsichord 
— such a mistress of flat and sharp, squallante, rumblante, 
and quiverante ! There was this time month — odd's 
minins and crotchets how she did chirrup at Mrs. Piano's 
concert ! 

Faulk. There again, what say you to this ? you see 
she has been all mirth and song — not a thought of me! 

Abs. Pho ! man, is not music the food of love ? 

Faulk. Well, well, it may be so. Pray, Mr. , what 's 

his damned name ? Do you remember what songs Miss 
Melville sung ? 

Acres. Not I indeed. 

Abs. Stay, now, they were some pretty melancholy 
purling-stream airs, I warrant ; perhaps you may recollect ; 
did she sing, WJicn absent from my soul 's delight ? 

Acres. No, that wa'n't it. 

Abs. Or, Go, gentle gales ! [Sings. 

Acres. Oh, no ! nothing like it. Odds ! now I recollect 
one of them — My heart 's my ozvn, my will is free. \_Si)igs. 

Faulk. Fool ! fool that I am ! to fix all my happiness 
on such a trifler ! 'Sdeath ! to make herself the pipe and 
ballad-monger of a circle ! to soothe her light heart with 
catches and glees ! What can you say to this, sir ? 

Abs. Why, that I should be glad to hear my mistress 
had been so merry, sir. 

Faulk. Nay, nay, nay — I 'm not sorry that she has 
been happy — no, no, I 'm glad of that — I would not have 
had her sad or sick — yet surely a sympathetic heart would 
have shown itself even in the choice of a song — she might 



7<d The Rivals. 



have been temperately healthy, and somehow, plaintively 
gay ; but she has been dancing too, I doubt not ! 

Acres. What does the gentleman say about dancing? 

Abs. He says the lady we speak of dances as well as 
she sings. 

Acres. Ay, truly, does she — there was at our last race 
ball — 

Faulk. Hell and the devil ! There ! there — I told you 
so ! I told you so ! Oh ! she thrives in my absence ! 
Dancing ! but her whole feelings have been in opposition 
with mine ; I have been anxious, silent, pensive, sedentary 
— my days have been hours of care, my nights of watchful- 
ness. • She has been all health! spirit! laugh! song! 
dance ! Oh ! damned, damned levity ! 

Abs. For Heaven's sake, Faulkland, don't expose your- 
self so ! Suppose she has danced, what then ? does not 
the ceremony of society often oblige — 

Faulk. Well, well, I '11 contain myself — perhaps as you 
say — for form, sake. What, Mr. Acres, you were praising 
Miss Melville's manner of dancing a minuet — hey? 

Acres. Oh, I dare insure her for that — but what I was 
going to speak of was her country-dancing. Odds swim- 
mings ! she has such an air with her ! 

Faulk. Now disappointment on her! Defend this, 
Absolute ; why don't you defend this ? Country-dances ! 
jigs and reels ! am I to blame now ? A minuet I could have 
forgiven — I should not have minded that — I say I should 
not have regarded a minuet — but country-dances ! Zounds ! 
had she made one in a cotillon — I believe I could have 
forgiven even that — but to be monkey-led for a night! to 



The Rivals. 71 



run the gauntlet through a string of amorous palming pup- 
pies ! to show paces like a managed filly ! Oh, Jack, there 
never can be but one man in the world whom a truly modest 
and delicate woman ought to pair with in a country-dance ; 
and, even then, the rest of the couples should be her great- 
uncles and aunts ! 

Abs. Ay, to be sure ! grandfathers and grandmothers ! 

Faulk. If there be but one vicious mind in the set, 
't will spread like a contagion — the action of their pulse 
beats to the lascivious movement of the jig — their quiver- 
ing, warm-breathed sighs impregnate the very air — the 
atmosphere becomes electrical to love, and each amorous 
spark darts through every link of the chain ! I must leave 
you — I own I am somewhat flurried — and that confounded 
looby has perceived it. \Going. 

Abs. Nay, but stay, Faulkland, and thank Mr. Acres for 
his good news. 

Faulk. Damn his news ! {Exit. 

Abs. Ha ! ha ! ha ! poor Faulkland five minutes since 
— " nothing on earth could give him a moment's 
uneasiness ! " 

Acres. The gentleman wa'n't angry at my praising his 
mistress, was he ? 

Re-enter Fag. 

Abs. A little jealous, I believe, Bob. 

Acres. You don't say so ? Ha! ha! jealous of me — 
that 's a good joke. 

Abs. There 's nothing strange in that, Bob ; let me tell 
you, that sprightly grace and insinuating manner of yours 



will do some mischief among the girls here. 



72 



The Rivals. 



Acres. Ah! you joke — ha! ha! mischief — ha! ha! 
but you know I am not my own property, my dear Lydia 
has forestalled me. She could never abide me in the 
country, because I used to dress so badly — but odds frogs 
and tambours ! I shan't take matters so here, now ancient 
madam has no voice in it : I '11 make my old clothes know 
who 's master. I shall straightway cashier the hunting- 
frock, and render my leather 
breeches incapable. My hair 
has been in training some 
time. 

Abs. Indeed ! 
Acres. Ay — and tho'off 
the side curls are a little 
restive, my hind-part takes 
it very kindly. 

Abs. Oh, you '11 polish, I 
doubt not. 

Acres. Absolutely I pro- 
pose so — then if I can find 
out this Ensign Beverley, 
odd's triggers and flints ! I '11 make him know the differ- 
ence o't. 

Abs. Spoke like a man ! But pray, Bob, I observe you 
have got an odd kind of a new method of swearing — : 

Acres. Ha! ha! you've taken notice of it — 'tis 
genteel, is n't it ? I did n't invent it myself though ; but a 
commander in our militia, a great scholar, I assure you, 
says that there is no meaning in the common oaths, and 
that nothing but their antiquity makes them respectable ; 




The Rivals. jt> 



because, he says, the ancients would never stick to an oath 
or two, but would say, by Jove ! or by Bacchus ! or by Mars ! 
or by Venus ! or by Pallas, according to the sentiment : so 
that to swear with propriety, says my little major, the oath 
should be an echo to the sense ; and this we call the oath 
referential or sentimental swearing — ha ! ha ! 't is genteel, 
is n't it ? 

Abs. Very genteel, and very new, indeed ! and I dare 
say will supplant all other figures of imprecation. 

Acres. Ay, ay, the best terms will grow obsolete. 
Damns have had their day. 

Fag. Sir, there is a gentleman below desires to see you. 
Shall I show him into the parlour ? 

Abs. Ay — you may. 

Acres. Well, I must be gone — 

Abs. Stay ; who is it, Fag ? 

Fag. Your father, sir. 

Abs. You puppy, why did n't you show him up directly ? 

{Exit Fag. 

Acres. You have business with Sir Anthony. I expect 
a message from Mrs. Malaprop at my lodgings. I have 
sent also to my clear friend Sir Lucius O'Trigger. Adieu, 
Jack! we must meet at night, when you shall give me a 
dozen bumpers to little Lydia. 

Abs. That I will with all my heart. [Exit Acres. 
Now for a parental lecture — I hope he has heard nothing 
of the business that has brought me here — I wish the gout 
had held him fast in Devonshire, with all my soul ! 



74 The Rivals. 



Enter Sir Anthony Absolute. 
Sir, I am delighted to see you here; looking so well! your 
sudden arrival at Bath made me apprehensive for your 
health. 

Sir Anth. Very apprehensive, I dare say, Jack. What, 
you are recruiting here, hey? 

Ads. Yes, sir, I am on duty. 

Sir Anth. Well, Jack, I am glad to see you, though I 
did not expect it, for I was going to write to you on a little 
matter of business. Jack, I have been considering that 
I grow old and infirm, and shall probably not trouble you 
long. 

Abs. Pardon me, sir, I never saw you look more strong 
and hearty ; and I pray frequently that you may continue so. 

Sir Anth. I hope your prayers may be heard, with all 
my heart. Well then, Jack, I have been considering that I 
am so strong and hearty I may continue to plague you a 
long time. Now, Jack, I am sensible that the income of 
your commission, and what I have hitherto allowed you, 
is but a small pittance for a lad of your spirit. 

Abs. Sir, you are very good. 

Sir Anth. And it is my wish, while yet I live, to have 
my boy make some figure in the world. I have resolved, 
therefore, to fix you at once in a noble independence. 

Abs. Sir, your kindness overpowers me — such gener- 
osity makes the gratitude of reason more lively than the 
sensations even of filial affection. 

Sir Anth. I am glad you are so sensible of my atten- 
tion — and you shall be master of a large estate in a few 
weeks. 



The Rivals. 75 



Abs. Let my future life, sir, speak my gratitude ; I can- 
not express the sense I have of your munificence. Yet, 
sir, I presume you would not wish me to quit the army ? 

Sir Anth. Oh, that shall be as your wife chooses. 

Abs. My wife, sir ! 

Sir Anth. Ay, ay, settle that between you — settle that 
between you. 

Abs. A wife, sir, did you say ? 

Sir Anth. Ay, a wife — why, did not I mention her 
before ? 

Abs. Not a word of her, sir. 

Sir Anth. Odd so ! I must n't forget her though. Yes, 
Jack, the independence I was talking of is by a marriage — 
the fortune is saddled with a wife — but I suppose that 
makes no difference. 

Abs. Sir ! sir ! you amaze me ! 

Sir Anth. Why, what the devil 's the matter with the 
fool ? Just now you were all gratitude and duty. 

Abs. I was, sir, — you talked to me of independence 
and a fortune, but not a word of a wife. 

Sir Anth. Why — what difference does that make? 
Odds life, sir! if you have the estate, you must take it 
with the live stock on it, as it stands. 

Abs. If my happiness is to be the price, I must beg 
leave to decline the purchase. Pray, sir, who is the 
lady ? 

Sir Anth. What 's that to you, sir ? Come, give me 
your promise to love, and to marry her directly. 

Abs. Sure, sir, this is not very reasonable, to summon 
my affections for a lady I know nothing of. 



•j 6 The Rivals. 



Sir Anth. I am sure, sir, 't is more unreasonable in 
you to object to a lady you know nothing of. 

Abs. Then, sir, I must tell you plainly that my inclina- 
tions are fixed on another — my heart is engaged to an 
angel. 

Sir Anth. Then pray let it send an excuse. It is very 
sorry — but business prevents its waiting on her. 

Ads. But my vows are pledged to her. 

Sir Anth. Let her foreclose, Jack ; let her foreclose ; 
they are not worth redeeming ; besides, you have the angel's 
vows in exchange, I suppose ; so there can be no loss there. 

Abs. You must excuse me, sir, if I tell you, once for 
all, that in this point I cannot obey you. 

Sir Anth. Hark'ee, Jack ; I have heard you for some 
time with patience — I have been cool — quite cool; but 
take care — you know 1 am compliance itself — when I am 
not thwarted ; — no one more easily led — when I have my 
own way ; but don't put me in a frenzy. 

Abs. Sir, I must repeat it — in this I cannot obey you. 

Sir Anth. Now damn me ! if ever I call you Jack 
again while I live ! 

Abs. Nay, sir, but hear me. 

Sir Anth. Sir, I won't hear a word — not a word ! not 
one word ! so give me your promise by a nod — and I '11 tell 
you what, Jack — I mean, you dog — if you don't, by — 

Abs. What, sir, promise to link myself to some mass of 
ugliness ! to — 

Sir Anth. Zounds ! sirrah ! the lady shall be as ugly as 
I choose : she shall have a hump on each shoulder ; she 
shall be as crooked as the crescent ; her one eye shall roll 



The Rivals. 79 



like the bull's in Cox's Museum ; she shall have a skin like 
a mummy, and the beard of a Jew — she shall be all this, 
sirrah ! — yet I will make you ogle her all day, and sit up 
all night to write sonnets on her beauty. 

Abs. This is reason and moderation indeed ! 

Sir Anth. None of your sneering, puppy ! no grinning, 
jackanapes ! 

Abs. Indeed, sir, I never was in a worse humour for 
mirth in my life. 

Sir Axth. 'T is false, sir, I know you are laughing in 
your sleeve ; I know you '11 grin when I am gone, sirrah ! 

Abs. Sir, I hope I know my duty better. 

Sir Axth. None of your passion, sir ! none of your 
violence, if you please ! It won't do with me, I promise 
you. 

Abs. Indeed, sir, I never was cooler in my life. 

Sir Axth. 'T is a confounded lie ! I know you are in 
a passion in your heart ; I know you are, you hypocritical 
young dog ! but it won't do. 

Abs. Nay, sir, upon my word — 

Sir Axth. So you will fly out ! can't you be cool like 
me ? What the devil good can passion do ? Passion is of 
no service, you impudent, insolent, overbearing reprobate ! 
There, you sneer again ! don't provoke me ! but you rely 
upon the mildness of my temper — you do, you dog ! you 
play upon the meekness of my disposition ! Yet, take care 
— the patience of a saint may be overcome at last ! but 
mark ! I give you six hours and a half to consider of this : 
if you then agree, without any condition, to do everything 
on earth that I choose, why — confound you ! I may in 



8o The Rivals. 



time forgive you. If not, zounds ! don't enter the same 
hemisphere with me ! don't dare to breathe the same air, 
or use the same light with me ; but get an atmosphere and 
a sun of your own ! I '11 strip you of your commission ; I '11 
lodge a five-and-threepence in the hands of trustees, and 
you shall live on the interest. I '11 disown you, I '11 disin- 
herit you, I '11 unget you ! and damn me ! if ever I call you 
Jack again ! {Exit. 

Abs. Mild, gentle, considerate father — I kiss your 
hands ! What a tender method of giving his opinion in 
these matters Sir Anthony has ! I dare not trust him with 
the truth. I wonder what old wealthy hag it is that he 
wants to bestow on me ! Yet he married himself for love ! 
and was in his youth a bold intriguer, and a gay companion! 



Re-enter Fag. 



Fag. Assuredly, sir, your father is wrath to a degree ; 
he comes down-stairs eight or ten steps at a time — mutter- 
ing, growling, and thumping the banisters all the way : I 
and the cook's dog stand bowing at the door — rap! he 
gives me a stroke on the head with his cane ; bids me carry 
that to my master ; then kicking the poor turnspit into 
the area, damns us all, for a puppy triumvirate! Upon my 
credit, sir, were I in your place, and found my father such 
very bad company, I should certainly drop his acquaintance. 

Abs. Cease your impertinence, sir, at present. Did 
you come in for nothing more ? Stand out of the way ! 

[Pushes htm asid-c, and exit. 

Fag. So! Sir Anthony trims my master: he is afraid 
to reply to his father — then vents his spleen on poor Fag ! 



The Rivals. 81 



When one is vexed by one person, to revenge one's self on 
another, who happens to come in the way, is the vilest 
injustice ! Ah ! it shows the worst temper — the basest — 

Enter Boy. 

Boy. Mr. Fag ! Mr. Fag! your master calls you. 

Fag. Well, you little dirty puppy, you need not bawl 
so ! The meanest disposition ! the — 

Boy. Quick, quick, Mr. Fag ! 

Fag. Quick, quick ! you impudent jackanapes ! am I to 
be commanded by you too? you little impertinent, insolent, 
kitchen-bred — [Exit kicking and beating him. 

Scene II. — The North Parade. 

Enter Lucy. 

Lucy. So — I shall have another rival to add to my 

mistress's list — Captain Absolute. However, I shall not 

enter his name till my purse has received notice in form. 

Poor Acres is dismissed ! Well, I have done him a last 

friendly office, in letting him know that Beverley was here 

before him. Sir Lucius is generally more punctual, when 

he expects to hear from his dear Dalia, as he calls her : I 

wonder he 's not here ! I have a little scruple of conscience 

from this deceit ; though I should not be paid so well, 

if my hero knew that Delia was near fifty, and her own 

mistress. 

Enter Sir Lucius O'Trigger. 

Sir Luc. Ha! my little ambassadress — upon my con- 
science, I have been looking for you ; I have been on the 
South Parade this half hour. 



82 



The Rivals. 




Mi 
I 



Lucy. [Speaking simply.] 
O gemini ! and I have been 
waiting for your worship here 
on the North. 
Sir. Luc. Faith ! maybe that was the reason we did 
not meet ; and it is very comical too, how you could go out 
and I not see you — for I was only taking a nap at the 
Parade Coffee-house, and I chose the window on purpose 
that I might not miss you. 

Lucy. My stars ! Now I 'd wager a sixpence I went 
by while you were asleep. 

Sir Luc. Sure enough it must have been so — and I 
never dreamt it was so late, till I waked. Well, but my 
little girl, have you got nothing for me ? 

Lucy. Yes, but I have — I 've got a letter for you in 
my pocket. 



The Rivals. 85 



Sir Luc. O faith ! I guessed you were n't come 
empty-handed. Well — let me see what the dear creature 
says. 

Lucy. There, Sir Lucius. [Gives him a letter. 

Sir Luc. [Reads.] Sir — there is often a sudden incentive 
impulse in love, that has a greater induction than years of 
domestic combination ; such was the commotion I felt at the 
first superfluous view of Sir Lucius O 1 Trigger. Very pretty, 
upon my word. Female punctuation forbids me to say more, 
yet let me add, that it zv ill give mc joy infallible to find Sir 
Lucius worthy the last criterion of my affections. Delia. 

Upon my conscience ! Lucy, your lady is a great mistress 
of language. Faith, she 's quite the queen of the diction- 
ary ! for the devil a word dare refuse coming at her call — 
though one would think it was quite out of hearing. 

Lucy. Ay, sir, a lady of her experience — 

Sir Luc. Experience ! what, at seventeen ? 

Lucy. O true, sir — but then she reads so — my stars ! 
how she will read off hand ! 

Sir Luc. Faith, she must be very deep read to write 
this way — though she is rather an arbitrary writer too — 
for here are a great many poor words pressed into the 
service of this note, that would get their habeas corpus 
from any court in Christendom. 

Lucy. Ah ! Sir Lucius, if you were to hear how she 
talks of you ! 

Sir Luc. Oh, tell her I '11 make her the best husband 
in the world, and Lady O'Trigger into the bargain ! But 
we must get the old gentlewoman's consent, and do every 
thing fairly. 



86 The Rivals. 



Lucy. Nay, Sir Lucius, I thought you wa'n't rich 
enough to be so nice ! 

Sir Luc. Upon my word, young woman, you have hit 
it : I am so poor, that I can't afford to do a dirty action. 
If I did not want money, I 'd steal your mistress and her 
fortune with a great deal of pleasure. However, my pretty 
girl [gives her money], here 's a little something to buy you 
a ribbon ; and meet me in the evening, and I '11 give you an 
answer to this. So, hussy, take a kiss beforehand to put 
you in mind. [Kisses her. 

Lucy. O Lud ! Sir Lucius — I never seed such a gem- 
man ! My lady won't like you if you 're so impudent. 

Sir Luc. Faith she will, Lucy ! That same — pho ! 
what 's the name of it ? — modesty — is a quality in a lover 
more praised by the women than liked ; so, if your mistress 
asks you whether Sir Lucius ever gave you a kiss, tell her 
fifty — my dear. 

Lucy. What, would you have me tell her a lie ? 

Sir Luc. Ah, then, you baggage ! I '11 make it a truth 
presently. 

Lucy. For shame, now ! here is some one coming. 

Sir Luc. Oh, faith, I '11 quiet your conscience ! 

[Exit humming a tune. 

Enter Fag. 

Fag. So, so, ma'am ! I humbly beg pardon. 

Lucy. O Lud ! now, Mr. Fag — you flurry one so. 

Fag. Come, come, Lucy, here 's no one by — so a little 
less simplicity, with a grain or two more sincerity, if you 
please. You play false with us, madam. I saw you give 



The Rivals. 87 



the baronet a letter. My master shall know this — and if 
he don't call him out, I will. 

Lucy. Ha ! ha ! ha ! you gentlemen's gentlemen are so 
hasty. That letter was from Mrs. Malaprop, simpleton. 
She is taken with Sir Lucius's address. 

Fag. How ! what tastes some people have ! Why, I 
suppose I have walked by her window a hundred times. 
But what says our young lady ? any message to my 
master ? 

Lucy. Sad news, Mr. Fag. A worse rival than Acres ! 
Sir Anthony Absolute has proposed his son 

Fag. What, Captain Absolute ? 

Lucy. Even so — I overheard it all. 

Fag. Ha ! ha ! ha ! very good, faith. Good-bye, Lucy, 
I must away with this news. 

Lucy. Well, you may laugh — but it is true, I assure 
you. [Going.] But, Mr. Fag, tell your master not to be 
cast down by this. 

Fag. Oh, he '11 be so disconsolate ! 

Lucy. And charge him not to think of quarrelling with 
young Absolute. 

Fag. Never fear ! never fear ! 

Lucy. Be sure — bid him keep up his spirits. 

Fag. We will — we will. 

\_Exennt severally. 




Scene I. — The NortJi Parade. 



Enter Captain Absolute. 



Abs. Tis just as Fag told me, indeed. Whimsical 
enough, faith ! My father wants to force me to marry the 
very girl I am plotting to run away with ! He must not 
know of my connection with her yet awhile. He has too 
summary a method of proceeding in these matters. How- 
ever, I '11 read my recantation instantly. My conversion 
is something sudden, indeed — but I can assure him it is 
very sincere. So, so — here he comes. He looks plaguy 
gruff. \_Stcps aside. 

Enter Sir Anthony Absolute. 

Sir Anth. No — I '11 die sooner than forgive him. Die, 

did I say ? I '11 live these fifty years to plague him. At 

our last meeting, his impudence had almost put me out of 

temper. An obstinate passionate, self-willed boy ! Who 

can he take after ? This is my return for getting him 

before all his brothers and sisters ! for putting him, at 

88 



Sir Luc/us (J Trigger dictating the Challenge. 



The Rivals. 89 



twelve years old, into a marching regiment, and allowing 
him fifty pounds a year, besides his pay, ever since ! But 
I have done with him ; he 's anybody's son for me. I never 
will see him more, never — never — never. 

Abs. [Aside, coming forward.] Now for a penitential 
face. 

Sir Anth. Fellow, get out of my way ! 

Abs. Sir, you see a penitent before you. 

Sir Anth. I see an impudent scoundrel before me. 

Abs. A sincere penitent. I am come, sir, to acknowl- 
edge my error, and to submit entirely to your will. 

Sir Anth. What 's that ? 

Abs. I have been revolving, and reflecting, and consider- 
ing on your past goodness, and kindness, and condescension 
to me. 

Sir Anth. Well, sir ? 

Abs. I have been likewise weighing and balancing what 
you were pleased to mention concerning duty, and obedi- 
ence, and authority. 

Sir Anth. Well, puppy ? 

Abs. Why then, sir, the result of my reflections is — 
a resolution to sacrifice every inclination of my own to 
your satisfaction. 

Sir Anth. Why now you talk sense — absolute sense — 
I never heard anything more sensible in my life. Con- 
found you ! you shall be Jack again. 

Abs. I am happy in the appellation. 

Sir Anth. Why then, Jack, my dear Jack, I will now 
inform you who the lady really is. Nothing but your pas- 
sion and violence, you silly fellow, prevented my telling 



9<D The Rivals. 



you at first. Prepare, Jack, for wonder and rapture — 
prepare. What think you of Miss Lydia Languish ? 

Abs. Languish ! What, the Languishes of Worcester- 
shire ? 

Sir Anth. Worcestershire ! no. Did you never meet 
Mrs. Malaprop and her niece, Miss Languish, who came 
into our country just before you were last ordered to your 
regiment ? 

Abs. Malaprop ! Languish ! I don't remember ever to 
have heard the names before. Yet, stay — I think I do 
recollect something. Languish ! Languish ! She squints, 
don't she ? A little red-haired girl ? 

Sir Anth. Squints ! A red-haired girl ! Zounds ! no. 

Abs. Then I must have forgot ; it can't be the same 
person. 

Sir Anth. Jack! Jack! what think you of blooming, 
love-breathing seventeen ? 

Abs. As to that, sir, I am quite indifferent. If I can 
please you in the matter, 't is all I desire. 

Sir Anth. Nay, but Jack, such eyes ! such eyes ! so 
innocently wild ! so bashfully irresolute ! not a glance but 
speaks and kindles some thought of love ! Then, Jack, her 
cheeks ! her cheeks, Jack ! so deeply blushing at the insin- 
uations of her tell-tale eyes ! Then Jack, her lips ! O 
Jack, lips smiling at their own discretion ; and if not 
smiling, more sweetly pouting ; more lovely in sullen- 
ness ! 

Abs. That 's she indeed. Well clone, old gentleman. 

[Aside. 

Sir Anth. Then, Jack, her neck ! O Jack ! Jack ! 




Sir Anthony Absolute and Mrs. Mahiprop. 



The Rivals. 



Abs. And which is to be mine, sir, the niece, or the 
aunt ? 

Sir Anth. Why, you unfeeling, insensible puppy, I 
despise you ! When I was of your age, such a description 
would have made me fly like a rocket ! The aunt indeed ! 
Odd's life ! when I ran away with your mother, I would not 
have touched anything old or ugly to gain an empire. 

Abs. Not to please your father, sir ? 

Sir Anth. To please my father ! zounds ! not to please 
— Oh, my father — odd so! — yes — yes; if my father 
indeed had desired — that 's quite another matter. Though 
he wa'n't the indulgent father that I am, Jack. 

Abs. I dare say not, sir. 

Sir Anth. But, Jack, you are not sorry to find your 
mistress is so beautiful ? 

Abs. Sir, I repeat it — if I please you in this affair, 't is 
all I desire. Not that I think a woman the worse for being 
handsome ; but, sir, if you please to recollect, you before 
hinted something about a hump or two, one eye, and a few 
more graces of that kind — now, without being very nice, 
I own I should rather choose a wife of mine to have the 
usual number of limbs, and a limited quantity of back : and 
though one eye may be very agreeable, yet as the prejudice 
has always run in favour of two, I would not wish to affect 
a singularity in that article. 

Sir Anth. What a phlegmatic sot it is ! Why, sirrah, 
you're an anchorite! — a vile, insensible stock. You a 
soldier ! you 're a walking block, fit only to dust the com- 
pany's regimentals on ! Odd's life ! I have a great mind 
to marry the girl myself. 



94 



The Rivals. 



Abs. I am entirely at your disposal, sir : if you should 
think of addressing Miss Languish yourself, I suppose you 
would have me marry the aunt ; or if you should change 
your mind, and take the old lady — 't is the same to me — 
I '11 marry the niece. 




Sir Anth. Upon my word, Jack, thou 'rt either a very 
great hypocrite, or— but, come, I know your indifference 
on such a subject must be all a lie — I 'm sure it must — 
come, now — damn your demure face! — come, confess 
Jack — .you have been lying — han't you ? You have been 



The Rivals. 95 



playing the hypocrite, hey ! — I '11 never forgive you, if you 
ha'n't been lying and playing the hypocrite. 

Abs. I 'm sorry, sir, that the respect and duty which I 
bear to you should be so mistaken. 

Sir Anth. Hang your respect and duty ! But come 
along with me. I '11 write a note to Mrs. Malaprop, and 
you shall visit the lady directly. Her eyes shall be the 
Promethean torch to you — come along, I '11 never forgive 
you, if you don't come back stark mad with rapture and 
impatience — if you don't, egad, I will marry the girl my- 
self ! \Exeunt. 



Scene II. — Julia's Dressing Room. 

Faulkland discovered alone. 

Faulk. They told me Julia would return directly ; I 
wonder she is not yet come ! How mean does this captious, 
unsatisfied temper of mine appear to my cooler judgment ! 
Yet I know not that I indulge it in any other point : but on 
this one subject, and to this one subject, whom I think I 
love beyond my life, I am ever ungenerously fretful and 
madly capricious ! I am conscious of it — yet I cannot cor- 
rect myself! What tender honest joy sparkled in her eyes 
when we met ! how delicate was the warmth of her expres- 
sions ! I was ashamed to appear less happy — though I 
had come resolved to wear a face of coolness and upbraid- 
ing. Sir Anthony's presence prevented my proposed ex- 
postulations : yet I must be satisfied that she has not been 
so very happy in my absence. She is coming ! Yes ! I 



96 The Rivals. 



know the nimbleness of her tread, when she thinks her 
impatient Faulkland counts the moments of her stay. 

Enter Julia. 

Jul. I had not hoped to see you again so soon. 

Faulk. Could I, Julia, be contented with my first wel- 
come — restrained as we were by the presence of a third 
person ? 

Jul. O Faulkland, when your kindness can make me 
thus happy, let me not think that I discovered something of 
coldness in your first salutation. 

Faulk. 'T was but your fancy, Julia. I was rejoiced 
to see you — to see you in such health. Sure I had no 
cause for coldness ? 

Jul. Nay then, I see you have taken something ill. 
You must not conceal from me what it is. 

Faulk. Well, then — shall I own to you that my joy at 
hearing of your health and arrival here, by your neighbour 
Acres, was somewhat damped by his dwelling much on the 
high spirits you had enjoyed in Devonshire — on your mirth 
— your singing — dancing, and I know not what! For 
such is my temper, Julia, that I should regard every mirth- 
ful moment in your absence as a treason to constancy. The 
mutual tear that steals down the cheek- of parting lovers is 
a compact, that no smile shall live there till they meet 
again. 

Jul. Must I never cease to tax my Faulkland with this 
teasing minute caprice ? Can the idle reports of a silly boor 
weigh in your breast against my tried affection ? 

Faulk. They have no weight with me, Julia : no, no 



The Rivals. 97 



— I am happy if you have been so — yet only say, that you 
did not sing with mirth — say that you thought of Faulk- 
land in the dance. 

Jul. I never can be happy in your absence. If I wear 
a countenance of content, it is to show that my mind holds 
no doubt of my Faulkland's truth. If I seemed sad, it were 
to make malice triumph ; and say, that I had fixed my heart 
on one who left me to lament his roving and my own cre- 
dulity. Believe me, Faulkland, I mean not to upbraid you, 
when I say, that I have often dressed sorrow in smiles lest 
my friends should guess whose unkindness had caused my 
tears. 

Faulk. You were ever all goodness to me. Oh, I am a 
brute, when I but admit a doubt of your true constancy ! 

Jul. If ever without such cause from you, as I will not 
suppose possible, you find my affections veering but a 
point, may I become a proverbial scoff for levity and base 
ingratitude. 

Faulk. Ah ! Julia, that last word is grating to me. I 
would I had no title to your gratitude ! Search your heart, 
Julia; perhaps what you have mistaken for love is but the 
warm effusion of a too thankful heart. 

Jul. For what quality must I love you ? 

Faulk. For no quality ! To regard me for any quality 
of mind or understanding were only to esteem me. And 
for person — I have often wished myself deformed to be 
convinced that I owed no obligation there for any part of 
your affection. 

Jul. Where nature has bestowed a show of nice atten- 
tion in the features of a man, he should laugh at it as mis- 



98 The Rivals. 



placed. I have seen men, who in this vain article, perhaps, , 
might rank above you ; but my heart has never asked my 
eyes if it were so or not. 

Faulk. Now this is not well from you, Julia — I despise 
person in a man — yet if you loved me as I wish, though I 
were an yEthiop, you 'd think none so fair. 

Jul. I see you are determined to be unkind! The con- 
tract which my poor father bound us in gives you more 
than a lover's privilege. 

Faulk. Again, Julia, you raise ideas that feed and jus- 
tify my doubts. I would not have been more free — no — 
I am proud of my restraint. Yet — yet — perhaps your 
high respect alone for this solemn compact has fettered 
your inclinations, which else had made a worthier choice. 
How shall I be sure, had you remained unbound in thought 
and promise, that I should still have been the object of 
your persevering love ? 

Jul. Then try me now. Let us be free as strangers as 
to what is past : my heart will not feel more liberty. 

Faulk. There now ! so hasty, Julia ! so anxious to be 
free ! If your love for me were fixed and ardent, you 
would not lose your hold, even though I wished it ! 

Jul. Oh ! you torture me to the heart ! I cannot bear it. 

Faulk. I do not mean to distress you. If I loved you 
less I should never give you an uneasy moment. But hear 
me. All my fretful doubts arise from this. Women are 
not used to weigh and separate the motives of their affec- 
tions : the cold dictates of prudence, gratitude, or filial 
duty, may sometimes be mistaken for the pleadings of the 
heart. I would not boast — yet let me say, that I have 




I .', 



; 



M 



The Rivals. 101 



neither age, person, nor character, to found dislike on ; my 
fortune such as few ladies could be charged with indiscre- 
tion in the match. O Julia ! when love receives such coun- 
tenance from prudence, nice minds will be suspicious of its 
birth. 

Jul. I know not whither your insinuations would tend : 
but as they seem pressing to insult me, I will spare you 
the regret of having done so. I have given you no cause 
for this ! {Exit in tears. 

Faulk. In tears ! Stay, Julia : stay but for a mo- 
ment. The door is fastened! Julia! my soul — but for 
one moment ! I hear her sobbing ! 'Sdeath ! what a 
brute am I to use her thus ! Yet stay. Ay — she is 
coming now : how little resolution there is in woman ! how 
a few soft words can turn them ! No, faith ! she is not 
coming either. Why, Julia — my love — say but that you 
forgive me — come but to tell me that — now this is being 
too resentful. Stay ! she is coming too — I thought she 
would — no steadiness in anything : her going away must 
have been a mere trick then — she sha'n't see that I was 
hurt by it. I '11 affect indifference — [Hums a tune : then 
listens.] No — zounds! she's not coming! nor don't in- 
tend it, I suppose. This is not steadiness, but obstinacy ! 
Yet I deserve it. What, after so long an absence to quar- 
rel with her tenderness ! 't was barbarous and unmanly ! 
I should be ashamed to see her now. I '11 wait till her just 
resentment is abated — and when I distress her so again, 
may I lose her for ever ! and be linked instead to some 
antique virago, whose gnawing passions, and long hoarded 
spleen, shall make me curse my folly half the day and all 
the night. [Exit. 



io2 The Rivals. 



Scene III. — Mrs. Malaprop's Lodgings. 

Mrs. Malaprop, with a letter in her hand, and Captain- 
Absolute. 

Mrs. Mal. Your being Sir Anthony's son, captain, 
would itself be a sufficient accommodation ; but from the 
ingenuity of your appearance, I am convinced you deserve 
the character here given of you. 

Abs. Permit me to say, madam, that as I never yet have 
had the pleasure of seeing Miss Languish, my principal 
inducement in this affair at present is the honour of being 
allied to Mrs. Malaprop; of whose intellectual accomplish- 
ments, elegant manners, and unaffected learning, no tongue 
is silent. 

Mrs. Mal. Sir, you do me infinite honour! I beg, 
captain, you '11 be seated. [They sit.] Ah ! few gentlemen, 
nowadays, know how to value the ineffectual qualities in a 
woman ! few think how a little knowledge becomes a gen- 
tle woman ! Men have no sense now but for the worthless 
flower of beauty ! 

Abs. It is but too true, indeed, ma'am ; yet I fear our 
ladies should share the blame — they think our admiration 
of beauty so great, that knowledge in them would be super- 
fluous. Thus, like garden-trees, they seldom show fruit, 
till time has robbed them of the more spacious blossom. 
Few, like Mrs. Malaprop and the orange-tree, are rich in 
both at once ! 

Mrs. Mal. Sir, you overpower me with good-breeding. 
He is the very pineapple of politeness ! You are not 



The Rivals. 105 



ignorant, captain, that this giddy girl has somehow contrived 
to fix her affections on a beggarly, strolling, eavesdropping 
ensign, whom none of us have seen, and nobody knows 
anything of. 

Abs. Oh, I have heard the silly affair before. I 'm not 
at all prejudiced against her on that account. 

Mrs. Mal. You are very good and very considerate, 
captain. I am sure I have clone everything in my power 
since I exploded the affair ; long ago I laid my positive con- 
junctions on her, never to think on the fellow again; I 
have since laid Sir Anthony's preposition before her ; but, 
I am sorry to say, she seems resolved to decline every 
particle that I enjoin her. 

Abs. It must be very distressing, indeed, ma'am. 

Mrs. Mal. Oh ! it gives me the hydrostatics to such a 
degree. I thought she had persisted from corresponding 
with him ; but, behold, this very day, I have interceded 
another letter from the fellow ; I believe I have it in my 
pocket. 

Abs. Oh, the devil ! my last note. {Aside. 

Mrs. Mal. Ay, here it is. 

Abs. Ay, my note indeed ! O the little traitress, Lucy. 

[Aside. 

Mrs. Mal. There, perhaps you may know the writing. 

[Gives him the letter. 

Abs. I think I have seen the hand before — yes, I 
certainly must have seen this hand before — 

Mrs. Mal. Nay, but read it, captain. 

Abs. [Reads.] My soul's idol, my adored Lydia — Very 
tender indeed ! 



io6 The Rivals. 



Mrs. Mal. Tender ! ay, and profane too, o' my con- 
science. 

Abs. [Reads.] / am excessively alarmed at the intelli- 
gence yon sold me, the more so as my new rival — 

Mrs. Mal. That 's you, sir. 

Abs. [Reads.] Has universally the character of being an 
accomplished gentleman and a man of honour. Well, that 's 
handsome enough. 

Mrs. Mal. Oh, the fellow has some design in writing so. 

Abs. That he had, I '11 answer for him, ma'am. 

Mrs. Mal. But go on, sir — you '11 see presently. 

Abs. [Reads.] As for the old weather-beaten she-dragon 
who guards you — Who can he mean by that ? 

Mrs. Mal. Me, sir! me! he means me! There — 
what do you think now ? but go on a little further. 

Abs. Impudent scoundrel ! [Reads.] it shall go hard 
but I ivill elude her vigilance, as I am told that the same 
ridiculous vanity, which makes her dress up her coarse fea- 
tures, and deck her dull chat with hard words which she don't 
understand — 

Mrs. Mal. There, sir, an attack upon my language ! 
what do you think of that ? — an aspersion upon my parts 
of speech ! was ever such a brute ! Sure, if I reprehend 
anything in this world, it is the use of my oracular tongue, 
and a nice derangement of epitaphs ! 

Abs. He deserves to be hanged and quartered ! let me 
see — [Reads.] same ridiculous vanity — 

Mrs. Mal. You need not read it again, sir. 

Abs. I beg pardon, ma'am. [Reads.] does also lay her 
open to the grossest deceptions from flattery and pretended 



The Rivals. 107 



admiration — an impudent coxcomb ! — so that I have a 
scheme to see yon shortly with the old harridan s consent, and 
eve?i to make her a go-between in onr interview. Was ever 
such assurance ! 

Mrs. Mal. Did you ever hear anything like it? — he'll 
elude my vigilance, will he — yes, yes! ha! ha ! he's very 
likely to enter these doors ; — we '11 try who can plot best ! 

Abs. So we will, ma'am — so we will! Ha! ha! ha! 
a conceited puppy, ha ! ha ! ha ! Well, but Mrs. Malaprop, 
as the girl seems so infatuated by this fellow, suppose you 
were to wink at her corresponding with him for a little time 
— let her even plot an elopement with him — then do you 
connive at her escape — while I, just in the nick, will have 
the fellow laid by the heels, and fairly contrive to carry her 
off in his stead. 

Mrs. Mal. I am delighted with the scheme ; never was 
anything better perpetrated ! 

Abs. But, pray, could not I see the lady for a few 
minutes now ? I should like to try her temper a little. 

Mrs. Mal. Why, I don't know — I doubt she is not 
prepared for a visit of this kind. There is a decorum in 
these matters. 

Abs. O Lord! she won't mind me — only tell her 
Beverley — 

Mrs. Mal. Sir ! 

Abs. Gently, good tongue. [Aside. 

Mrs. Mal. What did you say of Beverley ? 

Abs. Oh, I was going to propose that you should tell 
her, by way of jest, that it was Beverley who was below ; 
she 'd come down fast enough then — ha ! ha ! ha ! 



io8 The Rivals. 



Mrs. Mal. 'T would be a trick she well deserves ; 
besides, you know the fellow tells her he '11 get my consent 
to see her — ha! ha! Let him if he can, I say again. 
Lydia, come down here ! [Calling.'] He '11 make me a go- 
between in their interviews ! — ha ! ha ! ha ! Come down, 
I say, Lydia ! I don't wonder at your laughing, ha ! ha ! ha ! 
his impudence is truly ridiculous. 

Abs. 'T is very ridiculous, upon my soul, ma'am, ha ! 
ha! ha! 

Mrs. Mal. The little hussy won't hear. Well, I '11 go 
and tell her at once who it is — she shall know that Captain 
Absolute is come to wait on her. And I '11 make her behave 
as becomes a young woman. 

Abs. As you please, ma'am. 

Mrs. Mal. For the present, captain, your servant. Ah! 
you 've not done laughing yet, I see — elude my vigilance ; 
yes, yes ; ha ! ha ! ha ! [Exit. 

Abs. Ha ! ha ! ha ! one would think now that I might 
throw off all disguise at once, and seize my prize with 
security ; but such is Lydia's caprice, that to undeceive 
were probably to lose her. I '11 see whether she knows me. 

[ Walks aside and seems engaged in looking at the pictures. 

Enter Lydia. 

Lyd. What a scene am I now to go through ! surely 
nothing can be more dreadful than to be obliged to listen 
to the loathsome addresses of a stranger to one's heart. I 
have heard of girls persecuted as I am, who have appealed 
in behalf of their favoured lover to the generosity of his 
rival ; suppose I were to try it — there stands the hated 



The Rivals. 109 



rival — an officer too! but oh, how unlike my Beverley! 
I wonder he don't begin — truly he seems a very negligent 
wooer! quite at his ease, upon my word ! I '11 speak first — 
Mr. Absolute. 

Abs. Ma'am. [Turns round. 

Lvd. O heavens ! Beverley ! 

Abs. Hush ! hush, my life ! softly ! be not surprised ! 

Lvd. I am so astonished ! and so terrified ! and so 
overjoyed ! for Heaven's sake ! how came you here ? 

Abs. Briefly, I have deceived your aunt — I was in- 
formed that my new rival was to visit here this evening, 
and contriving to have him kept away, have passed myself 
on her for Captain Absolute. 

Lvd. O charming ! And she really takes you for voung 
Absolute ? 

Abs. Oh, she 's convinced of it. 

Lyd. Ha ! ha ! ha ! I can't forbear laughing to think 
how her sagacitv is overreached ! 

Abs. But we trifle with our precious moments — such 
another opportunity may not occur ; then let me now 
conjure my kind, my condescending angel, to fix the time 
when I may rescue her from undeserving persecution, and 
with a licensed warmth plead for my reward. 

Lyd. Will you then, Beverley, consent to forfeit that 
portion of my paltry wealth ? that burden on the wings 
of love ? 

Abs. Oh, come to me — rich only thus — in loveliness! 
Bring no portion to me but thy love — 't will be generous 
in you, Lydia — for well you know, it is the only dower your 
poor Beverley can repay. 



no The Rivals. 



Lyd. How persuasive are his words ! how charming 
will poverty be with him ! {Aside. 

Abs. Ah ! my soul, what a life will we then live ! Love 
shall be our idol and support ! we will worship him with a 
monastic strictness ; abjuring all worldly toys, to centre 
every thought and action there-. Proud of calamity, we 
will enjoy the wreck of wealth ; while the surrounding 
gloom of adversity shall make the flame of our pure love 
show doubly bright. By Heavens ! I would fling all goods 
of fortune from me with a prodigal hand, to enjoy the scene 
where I might clasp my Lydia to my bosom, and say, the 
world affords no smile to me but here — [Embracing her.'] 
If she holds out now, the devil is in it ! [Aside. 

Lyd. Now could I fly with him to the antipodes ! but 
my persecution is not yet come to a crisis. [Aside. 

Re-enter Mrs. Malaprop, listening. 

Mrs. Mal. I am impatient to know how the little hussy 
deports herself. [Aside. 

Abs. So pensive, Lydia ! is then your warmth abated ? 

Mrs. Mal. Warmth abated ! so ! she has been in a 
passion, I suppose. [Aside. 

Lyd. No — nor ever can while I have life. 

Mrs. Mal. An ill-tempered little devil! She '11 be in a 
passion all her life — will she ? [Aside. 

Lyd. Think not the idle threats of my ridiculous aunt 
can ever have any weight with me. 

Mrs. Mal. Very dutiful, upon my word ! [Aside. 

Lyd. Let her choice be Captain Absolute, but Beverley 
is mine. 



The Rivals. 1 1 3 



Mrs. Mal. I am astonished at her assurance ! — to his 
face — this to his face ! [Aside. 

Abs. Thus then let me enforce my suit. [Kneeling. 

Mrs. Mal. [Aside] Ay, poor young man ! clown on 
his knees entreating for pity ! I can contain no longer. 
[Coming forward.] Why, thou vixen — I have overheard 
you. 

Abs. Oh, confound her vigilance ! [Aside. 

Mrs. Mal. Captain Absolute, I know not how to apolo- 
gize for her shocking rudeness. 

Abs. [Aside.] So all 's safe, I find. [Aloud.] I have 
hopes, madam, that time will bring the young lady — 

Mrs. Mal. Oh, there 's nothing to be hoped for from 
her ! she 's as headstrong as an allegory on the banks of 
Nile. 

Lyd. Nay, madam, what do you charge me with now ? 

Mrs. Mal. Why, thou unblushing rebel — didn't you 
tell this gentleman to his face that you loved another 
better ? did n't you say you never would be his ? 

Lyd. No, madam — I did not. 

Mrs. Mal. Good Heavens ! what assurance ! Lydia, 
Lydia, you ought to know that lying don't become a young 
woman ! Did n't you boast that Beverley, that stroller Bev- 
erley, possessed your heart ? Tell me that, I say. 

Lyd. 'T is true, ma'am, and none but Beverley — 

Mrs. Mal. Hold ! hold, assurance ! you shall not be so 
rude. 

Abs. Nay, pray, Mrs. Malaprop, don't stop the young 
lady's speech : she 's very welcome to talk thus — it does 
not hurt me in the least, I assure you. 



1 1 4 The Rivals. 



Mrs. Mal. You are too good, captain — too amiably- 
patient — but come with me, miss. Let us see you again, 
soon, captain — remember what we have fixed. 

Abs. I shall, ma'am. 

Mrs. Mal. Come, take a graceful leave of the gentle- 
man. 

Lyd. May every blessing wait on my Beverley, my loved 
Bev— 

Mrs. Mal. Hussy ! I '11 choke the word in your throat ! 
come along — come along. 

[Exeunt severally ; Captain Absolute kissing his hand 
to Lydia — Mrs. Mala prop stopping her from speaking. 



Scene IV. — Acres's Lodgings. 
Acres, as just dressed, and David. 

Acres. Indeed, David — do you think I become it so ? 

Dav. You are quite another creature, believe me, master, 
by the mass ! an we 've any luck we shall see the Devon 
monkerony in all the print-shops in Bath ! 

Acres. Dress does make a difference, David. 

Dav. 'T is all in all, I think. Difference ! why, an you 
were to go now to Clod-hall, I am certain the old lady 
would n't know you : master Butler would n't believe his 
own eyes, and Mrs. Pickle would cry, Lard presarve me ! 
our dairy-maid would come giggling to the door, and I 
warrant Dolly Tester, your honour's favourite, would blush 
like my waistcoat. Oons ! I '11 hold a gallon, there a'n't a 



The Rivals. 



"5 




dog in the house but would bark, and I question whether 
Phillis would wag a hair of her tail ! 

Acres. Ay, David, there 's nothing like polishing. 

Dav. So I says of your honour's boots ; but the boy 
never heeds me ! 



1 1 6 The Rivals. 



Acres. But, David, has Mr. De-la-grace been here ? I 
must rub up my balancing, and chasing, and boring. 

Dav. I '11 call again, sir. 

Acres. Do — and see if there are any letters for me at 
the post-office. 

Dav. I will. By the mass, I can't help looking at your 
head ! if I had n't been by at the cooking, I wish I may die 
if I should have known the dish again myself ! {Exit. 

Acres. {Practising a dancing-step.] Sink, slide — coupee. 
Confound the first inventors of cotillons! say I — they are 
as bad as algebra to us country gentlemen — I can walk a 
minuet easy enough when I am forced ! and I have been 
accounted a good stick in a country-dance. Odd's jigs and 
tabors ! I never valued your cross-over to couple — figure 
in — right and left — and I 'd foot it with e'er a captain in 
the county ! but these outlandish heathen allemandes and 
cotillons are quite beyond me ! I shall never prosper at 'em, 
that's sure — mine are true-born English legs — they don't 
understand their curst French lingo ! their pas this, and/#.y 
that, and pas t' other ! damn me ! my feet don't like to be 
called paws ! no, 't is certain I have most Antigallican toes ! 

Enter Servant. 

Serv. Here is Sir Lucius O'Trigger to wait on you, sir. 
Acres. Show him in. [Exit Servant. 

Enter Sir Lucius O'Trigger. 

Sir Luc. Mr. Acres, I am delighted to embrace you. 
Acres. My dear Sir Lucius, I kiss your hands. 
Sir Luc. Pray, my friend, what has brought you so 
suddenly to Bath ? 



The Rivals. 



117 



Acres. Faith ! I have followed Cupid's Jack-a-lantern, 
and find myself in a quagmire at last. In short, I have 
been very ill-used, Sir Lucius. I don't choose to mention 
names, but look on me as on a very ill-used gentleman. 

Sir Luc. Pray what is the case ? I ask no names. 

Acres. Mark me, Sir Lucius, I fall as deep as need be 
in love with a young lady — her 
friends take my part — I follow 
her to Bath — send word of my 
arrival ; and receive answer, that 
the lady is to be otherwise dis- 
posed of. This, Sir Lucius, I 
call being ill-used. 

Sir Luc. Very ill, upon my 
conscience. Pray, can you divine 
the cause of it ? 

Acres. Why, there 's the mat- 
ter ; she has another lover, one 
Beverley, who, I am told, is now 
in Bath. Odd's slanders and lies ! 
he must be at the bottom of it. 

Sir Luc. A rival in the case, 
is there ? and you think he has 
supplanted you unfairly ? 

Acres. Unfairly ! to be sure he has. 
have done it fairly. 

Sir Luc. Then sure you know what is to be done ! 

Acres. Not I, upon my soul ! 

Sir Luc. We wear no swords here, but you understand me. 

Acres. What ! fisrht him ! 




He never could 



1 1 8 The Rivals. 



Sir Luc. Ay, to be sure : what can I mean else ? 

Acres. But he has given me no provocation. 

Sir Luc. Now, I think he has given you the greatest 
provocation in the world. Can a man commit a more 
heinous offence against another than to fall in love with the 
same woman ? Oh, by my soul ! it is the most unpardonable 
breach of friendship. 

Acres. Breach of friendship ! ay, ay ; but I have no 
acquaintance with this man. I never saw him in my life. 

Sir Luc. That 's no argument at all — he has the less 
right then to take such a liberty. 

Acres. Gad, that's true — I grow full of anger, Sir 
Lucius ! I fire apace! Odd's hilts and blades ! I find a man 
may have a deal of valour in him, and not know it ! But 
could n't I contrive to have a little right of my side ? 

Sir Luc. What the devil signifies right, when your 
honour is concerned ? Do you think Achilles, or my little 
Alexander the Great, ever inquired where the right lay ? 
No, by my soul, they drew their broad-swords, and left the 
lazy sons of peace to settle the justice of it. 

Acres. Your words are a grenadier's march to my 
heart ! I believe courage must be catching ! I certainly 
do feel a kind of valour rising as it were — a kind of courage, 
as I may say. Odd's flints, pans, and triggers ! I '11 
challenge him directly. 

Sir Luc. Ah, my little friend, if I had Blunderbuss 
Hall here, I could show you a range of ancestry, in the 
O'Trigger line, that would furnish the new room ; every 
one of whom had killed his man ! For though the mansion- 
house and dirty acres have slipped through my fingers, I 



The Rivals. 



119 



thank heaven our honour and the family-pictures are as 
fresh as ever. 

Acres. O Sir Lucius ! I have had ancestors too ! every 
man of 'em colonel or captain in the militia! Odd's balls 




and barrels ! say no more — I 'm braced for it. The 
thunder of your words has soured the milk of human kind- 
ness in my breast ; Zounds ! as the man in the play says, / 
could do stick deeds ! 

Sir Luc. Come, come, there must be no passion at all 
in the case — these things should always be done civilly. 



120 The Rivals. 



Acres. I must be in a passion, Sir Lucius — I must be 
in a rage. Dear Sir Lucius, let me be in a rage, if you 
love me. Come, here 's pen and paper. [Sits down to 
write.] I would the ink were red! Indite, I say indite ! 
How shall I begin ? Odd's bullets and blades ! I '11 write 
a good bold hand, however. 

Sir Luc. Pray compose yourself. 

Acres. Come — now, shall I begin with an oath ? Do, 
Sir Lucius, let me begin with a damme. 

Sir Luc. Pho ! pho ! do the thing decently and like a 
Christian. Begin now — Sir — 

Acres. That 's too civil by half. 

Sir- Luc. To prevent the confusion tJiat viigJit arise — 

Acres. Well — 

Sir Luc. From our both addressing the same lady — 

Acres. Ay, there 's the reason — same lady — well — 

Sir Luc. / shall expect the honour of your company — 

Acres. Zounds ! I 'm not asking him to dinner. 

Sir Luc. Pray be easy. 

Acres. Well then, honour of your company — 

Sir Luc. To settle our pretensions — 

Acres. Well. 

Sir Luc. Let me see, ay, King's-Mead-Field will do — 
in King s Mead Fields. 

Acres. So, that 's done — Well, I '11 fold it up presently; 
my own crest — a hand and dagger — shall be the seal. 

Sir Luc. You see now this little explanation will put a 
stop at once to all confusion or misunderstanding that 
might arise between vou. 

Acres. Ay, we fight to prevent any misunderstanding. 



The Rivals. 



121 




Sir Luc. Now, I '11 leave you to fix your own time. 
Take my advice, and you '11 decide it this evening if you 
can; then let the worst come of it, 't will be off your mind 
to-morrow. 



122 The Rivals. 



Acres. Very true. 

Sir Luc. So I shall see nothing more of you, unless it 
be by letter, till the evening. I would do myself the 
honour to carry your message ; but, to tell you a secret, I 
believe I shall have just such another affair on my own 
hands. There is a gay captain here, who put a jest on me 
lately, at the expense of my country, and I only want to 
fall in with the gentleman, to call him out. 

Acres. By my valour, I should like to see you fight 
first ! Odd 's life ! I should like to see you kill him if it 
was only to get a little lesson. 

Sir Luc. I shall be very proud of instructing you. 
Well, for the present — but remember now, when you 
meet your antagonist, do everything in a mild and agree- 
able manner. Let your courage be as keen, but at the 
same time as polished as your sword. 

[ Exeunt severally. 




Scene I. — Acres's Lodgings. 



Acres and David. 



Dav. Then, by the mass, sir! I would do no such 
thing — ne'er a Sir Lucius O'Trigger in the kingdom 
should make me fight when I wa'n't so minded. Oons ! 
what will the old lady say, when she hears o 't ? 

Acres. Ah ! David, if you had heard Sir Lucius ! 
— Odd's sparks and flames ! he would have roused your 
valour. 

Dav. Not he, indeed. I hate such bloodthirsty cormo- 
rants. Look 'ee, master, if you 'd wanted a bout at boxing, 
quarter-staff, or short-staff, I should never be the man to 
bid you cry off : but for your curst sharps and snaps, I 
never knew any good come of 'em. 

Acres. But my honour, David, my honour ! I must be 
very careful of my honour. 

Dav. Ay, by the mass ! and I would be very careful of 

it ; and I think in return my honour could n't do less than 

to be very careful of me. 

123 



124 



The Rivals. 



Acres. Odd's blades ! David, no gentleman will ever 
risk the loss of his honour ! 

Dav. I say then, it would be but civil in honour never 








oil 



to risk the loss of a gentleman. Look 'ee, master, this 
honour seems to me to be a marvellous false friend : ay, 
truly, a very courtier-like servant. Put the case, I was a 
gentleman (which, thank God, no one can say of me ;) well 



The Rivals. 125 



— my honour makes me quarrel with another gentleman of 
my acquaintance. So — we fight. (Pleasant enough that !) 
Boh ! I kill him — (the more 's my luck !) now, pray who 
gets the profit of it ? Why, my honour. But put the case 
that he kills me ! by the mass ! I go to the worms, and my 
honour whips over to my enemy. 

Acres. No, David — in that case! Odd's crowns and 
laurels ! your honour follows you to the grave. 

Dav. Now, that 's just the place where I could make a 
shift to do without it. 

Acres. Zounds ! David, you are a coward ! It does n't 
become my valour to listen to you. What, shall I disgrace 
my ancestors? Think of that, David — think what it 
would be to disgrace' my ancestors ! 

Dav. Under favour, the surest way of not disgracing 
them, is to keep as long as you can out of their company. 
Look 'ee now, master, to goto them in such haste — with 
an ounce of lead in your brains — I should think might as 
well be let alone. Our ancestors are very good kind of 
folks ; but they are the last people I should choose to have 
a visiting acquaintance with. 

Acres. But, David, now, you don't think there is such 
very, very, very great danger, hey ? Odd's life ! people 
often fight without any mischief done ! 

Dav. By the mass, I think 't is ten to one against you ! 
Oons ! here to meet some lion-headed fellow, I warrant, 
with his damned double-barrelled swords, and cut-and-thrust 
pistols ! Lord bless us ! it makes me tremble to think o 't ! 
Those be such desperate bloody-minded weapons. Well, I 
never could abide 'em — from a child I never could fancy 



126 The Rivals. 



'em ! I suppose there ain't been so merciless a beast in the 
world as your loaded pistol ! 

Acres. Zounds ! I won't be afraid ! Odd's fire and 
fury ! you sha'n't make me afraid. Here is the challenge, 
and I have sent for my dear friend Jack Absolute to carry 
it for me. 

Dav. Ay, i' the name of mischief, let him be the mes- 
senger. For my part, I would n't lend a hand to it for the 
best horse in your stable. By the mass ! it don't look like 
another letter ! It is, as I may say, a designing and 
malicious-looking letter ; and I warrant smells of gun- 
powder like a soldier's pouch ! Oons ! I would n't swear 
it mayn't go off ! 

Acres. Out, you poltroon ! you ha'n't the valour of a 
grasshopper. 

Dav. Well, I say no more — 't will be sad news, to be 
sure, at Clod-hall ! but I ha' done. How Phillis will howl 
when she hears of it ! Ay, poor bitch, she little thinks 
what shooting her master 's going after ! And I warrant 
old Crop, who has carried your honour, field and road, these 
ten years, will curse the hour he was born. [ Whimpering. 

Acres. It won't do, David — I am determined to fight 
— so get along, you coward, while I 'm in the mind. 

Enter Servant. 

Ser. Captain Absolute, sir. 

Acres. Oh ! show him up. {Exit Servant. 

Dav. Well, Heaven send we be all alive this time to- 
morrow. 

Acres. What 's that ? Don't provoke me, David ! 




eg 

I HI 



~*3 



The Rivals. 129 



Dav. Good-bye, master. [ Whimpering. 

Acres. Get along, you cowardly, dastardly, croaking 

raven ! [Exit David" 

Enter Captain Absolute. 

Abs. What's the matter, Bob ? 

Acres. A vile, sheep-hearted blockhead ! If I had n't 
the valour of St. George and the dragon to boot — 

Abs. But what did you want with me, Bob ? 

Acres. Oh ! There — [Gives him the challenge. 

Abs. [Aside.] To Ensign Beverley. So, what 's going 
on now ! [Aloud.] Well, what 's this ? 

Acres. A challenge ! 

Abs. Indeed ! Why, you won't fight him ; will you, Bob ? 

Acres. Egad, but I will, Jack. Sir Lucius has wrought 
me to it. He has left me full of rage— and I '11 fight this 
evening, that so much good passion may n't be wasted. 

Abs. But what have I to do with this ? 

Acres. Why, as I think you know something of this 
fellow, I want you to find him out for me, and give him this 
mortal defiance. 

Abs. Well, give it to me, and trust me he gets it. 

Acres. Thank you, my dear friend, my dear Jack ; but 
it is giving you a great deal of trouble. 

Abs. Not in the least — I beg you won't mention it. 
No trouble in the world, I assure you. 

Acres. You are very kind. What it is to have a friend ! 
You could n't be my second, could you, Jack ? 

Abs. Why no, Bob — not in this affair — it would not 
be quite so proper. 



130 The Rivals. 



Acres. Well, then, I must get my friend Sir Lucius. I 
shall have your good wishes, however, Jack ? 
Abs. Whenever he meets you, believe me. 

Re-enter Servant. 

Ser. Sir Anthony Absolute is below, inquiring for the 
captain. 

Abs. I '11 come instantly. [Exit Servant.] Well, my 
little hero, success attend you. [Going. 

Acres. Stay — stay, Jack. If Beverley should ask you 
what kind of a man your friend Acres is, do tell him I am 
a devil of a fellow — will you, Jack ? 

Abs; To be sure I shall. I '11 say you are a determined 
dog — hey, Bob ! 

Acres. Ay, do, do — and if that frightens him, egad, 
perhaps he may n't come. So tell him I generally kill a 
man a week ; will you, Jack ? 

Abs. I will, I will ; I '11 say you are called in the country 
Fighting Bob. 

Acres. Right — right — 'tis all to prevent mischief; 
for I don't want to take his life if I clear my honour. 

Abs. No ! that 's very kind of you. 

Acres. Why, you don't wish me to kill him — do you, 
Jack? 

Abs. No, upon my soul, I do not. But a devil of a fel- 
low, hey ? [Going. 

Acres. True, true — but stay — stay, Jack — you may 
add, that you never saw me in such a rage before — a most 
devouring rage ! 

Abs. I will, I will. 



The Rivals. 



Hi 



Acres. Remember, Jack — a determined dog! 

Abs. Ay, ay, Fighting Bob ! [Exeunt severally. 



Scene II. — Mrs. Malaprop's Lodgings. 
Mrs. Malaprop and Lydia. 

Mrs. Mal. Why, thou perverse one ! tell me what you 
can object to him? Is n't he a handsome man? tell me 
that. A genteel man ? a pretty figure of a man ? 

Lyd. [Aside.] She little thinks whom she is praising ! 
[Aloud.] So is Beverley, ma'am. 

Mrs. Mal. No comparisons, miss, if you please. Com- 
parisons don't become a young woman. No ! Captain 
Absolute is indeed a fine gentleman ! 

Lyd. Ay, the Captain Absolute you have seen. [Aside. 

Mrs. Mal. Then he 's so well bred ; so full of alacrity, 
and adulation ! and has so much to say for himself : in such 
good language too ! His physiognomy so grammatical ! 
Then his presence is so noble ! I protest, when I saw him, 
I thought of what Hamlet says in the play : — 

" Hesperian curls — the front of Job himself! 
An eye, like March, to threaten at command ! 
A station, like Harry Mercury, new — " 

Something about kissing — on a hill — however, the simili- 
tude struck me directly. 

Lyd. How enraged she '11 be presently, when she dis- 
covers her mistake ! [Aside. 



132 The Rivals. 



Enter Servant. 

Ser. Sir Anthony and Captain Absolute are below, 
ma'am. 

Mrs. Mal. Show them up here. [Exit Servant.] 
Now, Lydia, I insist on your behaving as becomes a young 
woman. Show your good breeding, at least, though you 
have forgot your duty. 

Lyd. Madam, I have told you my resolution ! I shall 
not only give him no encouragement, but I won't even 
speak to, or look at him. 

[Flings herself into a chair, with her face from tlie door. 



Enter Sir Anthony Absolute and Captain Absolute. 

Sir Anth. Here we are, Mrs. Malaprop ; come to miti- 
gate the frowns of unrelenting beauty, — and difficulty 
enough I had to bring this fellow. I don't know what 's 
the matter ; but if I had not held him by force, he 'd have 
given me the slip. 

Mrs. Mal. You have infinite trouble, Sir Anthony, in 
the affair. I am ashamed for the cause ! [Aside to Lydia.] 
Lydia, Lydia, rise, I beseech you ! pay your respects ! 

Sir Anth. I hope, madam, that Miss Languish has 
reflected on the worth of this gentleman, and the regard 
due to her aunt's choice, and my alliance. [Aside to Cap- 
tain Absolute.] Now, Jack, speak to her. 

Abs. [Aside.] What the devil shall I do ! [Aside to Sir 
Anthony.] You see, sir, she won't even look at me whilst 




— <~ „4f • 



The Rivals. 



l 35 



you are here. I knew she would n't ! I told you so. Let 
me entreat you, sir, to leave us together ! 

[Seems to expostulate with his father. 

Lyd. [Aside.'] I wonder I ha'n't heard my aunt ex- 
claim yet ! sure she can't have looked at him ! perhaps 
their regimentals are alike, and she is something 
blind. 

Sir Anth. I say, sir, I won't stir a foot yet ! 

Mrs. Mal. I am sorry to say, Sir Anthony, that my 
affluence over my niece is very small. [Aside to Lydia.] 
Turn round, Lydia : I blush for you ! 

Sir Anth. May I not flatter myself, that Miss Lan- 
guish will assign what cause of dislike she can have to my 
son ! [Aside to Captain Absolute.] Why don't you 
begin, Jack ? Speak, you puppy — speak ! 

Mrs. Mal. It is impossible, Sir Anthony, she can have 
any. She will not say she has. [Aside to Lydia.] 
Answer, hussy ! why don't you answer ? 

Sir Anth. Then, madam, I trust that a childish and 
hasty predilection will be no bar to Jack's happiness. 
[Aside to Captain Absolute.] Zounds ! sirrah ! why 
don't you speak ! 

Lyd. [Aside.] I think my lover seems as little in- 
clined to conversation as myself. How strangely blind 
my aunt must be ! 

Abs. Hem! hem! madam — hem! [Attempts to speak, 
then returns to Sir Anthony.] Faith ! sir, I am so con- 
founded ! and — so — so — confused! I told you I should 
be so, sir — I knew it. The — the — tremor of my passion 
entirely takes away my presence of mind. 



136 The Rivals. 



Sir Anth. But it don't take away your voice, fool, 
does it ? Go up, and speak to her directly ! 

[Captain Absolute makes signs to Mrs. Malaprop 
to leave them together. 

Mrs. Mal. Sir Anthony, shall we leave them together ? 
[Aside to Lydia.] Ah ! you stubborn little vixen ! 

Sir Anth. Not yet, ma'am, not yet ! [Aside to Cap- 
tain Absolute.] What the devil are you at ? unlock your 
jaws, sirrah, or — 

Abs. [Aside.~\ Now Heaven send she may be too sullen 
to look round ! I must disguise my voice. [Draws near 
Lydia, and speaks in a loiv hoarse tone.] Will not Miss 
Languish lend an ear to the mild accents of true love ? 
Will not — 

Sir Anth. What the devil ails the fellow ? Why don't 
you speak out ? not stand croaking like a frog in a quinsy ! 

Abs. The — the — excess of my awe, and my — my — 
my modesty, quite choke me ! 

Sir Anth. Ah! your modesty again! I'll tell you 
what, Jack; if you don't speak out directly, and glibly too, 
I shall be in such a rage! Mrs. Malaprop, I wish the lady 
would favour us with something more than a side front. 

[Mrs. Malaprop seems to chide Lydia. 

Abs. [Aside.~\ So all will out I see ! [Goes up to Lydia, 
speaks softly.'] Be not surprised, my Lydia, suppress all 
surprise at present. 

Lyd. [Aside.] Heavens ! 't is Beverley's voice ! Sure 
he can't have imposed on Sir Anthony too ! [Looks round 
by degrees, then starts up7\ Is this possible! my Beverley! 
how can this be ? my Beverley ? 



The Rivals. 137 



Abs. Ah ! 't is all over. [ Aside. 

Sir Anth. Beverley! the devil — Beverley! What 
can the girl mean ? This is my son, Jack Absolute. 

Mrs. Mal. For shame, hussy ! for shame ! your head 
runs so on that fellow, that you have him always in your 
eyes ! beg Captain Absolute's pardon directly. 

Lvd. I see no Captain Absolute, but my loved Beverley ! 

Sir Anth. Zounds ! the girl 's mad ! her brain 's turned 
by reading. 

Mrs. Mal. O my conscience, I believe so ! What do 
you mean by Beverley, hussy ? You saw Captain Absolute 
before to-day ; there he is — your husband that shall be. 

Lvd. With all my soul, ma'am — when I refuse my 
Beverley — 

Sir Anth. Oh ! she 's as mad as Bedlam ! or has this 
fellow been playing us a rogue's trick ! Come here, sirrah, 
who the devil are you ? 

Abs. Faith, sir, I am not quite clear myself ; but I '11 
endeavour to recollect. 

Sir Anth. Are you my son or not ? answer for your 
mother, you dog, if you won't for me. 

Mrs. Mal. Ay, sir, who are you? O mercy! I begin 
to suspect ! 

Abs. [Aside] Ye powers of impudence, befriend me ! 
[Aloud.'] Sir Anthony, most assuredly I am your wife's son, 
and that I sincerely believe myself to be yours also, I hope 
my duty has always shown. Mrs. Malaprop, I am your most 
respectful admirer, and shall be proud to add affectionate 
nephew. I need not tell my Lyclia, that she sees her faith- 
ful Beverley, who, knowing the singular generosity of her 



138 The Rivals. 



temper, assumed that name and station, which has proved a 
test of the most disinterested love, which he now hopes to 
enjoy in a more elevated character. 

Lyd. So ! there will be no elopement after all ! 

[Sullenly. 

Sir Anth. Upon my soul, Jack, thou art a very impu- 
dent fellow ! to do you justice, I think I never saw a piece 
of more consummate assurance ! 

Abs. Oh, you flatter me, sir — you compliment — 't is my 
modesty, you know, sir, — my modesty that has stood in 
my way. 

Sir Anth. Well, I am glad you are not the dull, insen- 
sible varlet you pretended to be, however ! I 'm glad you 
have made a fool of your father, you dog — I am. So this 
was your penitence, your duty and obedience ! I thought it 
was damned sudden ! You never heard their names before, 
not you ! what, the Languishes of Worcestershire, hey ? if 
you could please Die in the affair it was all you desired ! Ah ! 
you dissembling villain ! What ! [Pointing to Lydia] she 
squints, dont she? a little red-haired girl ! hey? Why, you 
hypocritical young rascal ! I wonder you ain't ashamed to 
hold up your head ! 

Abs. 'T is with difficulty, sir. I am confused — very 
much confused, as you must perceive. 

Mrs. Mal. O Lud ! Sir Anthony ! a new light breaks 
in upon me ! hey ! how ! what ! captain, did you write the 
letters then ? What — am I to thank you for the elegant 
compilation of an old weather-beaten she-dragon — hey! O 
mercy ! was it you that reflected on my parts of speech ? 

Abs. Dear sir ! my modesty will be overpowered at 



The Rivals. 139 



last, if you don't assist me — I shall certainly not be able to 
stand it ! 

Sir Anth. Come, come, Mrs. Malaprop, we must forget 
and forgive ; odd's life ! matters have taken so clever a turn 
all of a sudden, that I could find in my heart to be so good- 
humoured ! and so gallant ! hey ! Mrs. Malaprop ! 

Mrs. Mal. Well, Sir Anthony, since you desire it, we 
will not anticipate the past! so mind, young people — our 
retrospection will be all to the future. 

Sir Anth. Come, we must leave them together; Mrs. 
Malaprop, they long to fly into each other's arms, I warrant ! 
Jack — isn't the cheek as I said, hey? and the eye, you 
rogue! and the lip — hey? Come, Mrs. Malaprop, we'll 
not disturb their tenderness — theirs is the time of life for 
happiness! Youth's the season made for joy — [Sings] hey! 
Odd's life ! I 'm in such spirits, — I don't know what I could 
not do ! Permit me, ma'am [Gives his hand to Mrs. Mala- 
prop.] Tol-de-rol — 'gad, I should like to have a little fooling 
myself — Tol-de-rol! de-rol. 

[Exit singing and /landing Mrs. Malaprop. 
— Lydia sits sullenly in her chair. 

Abs. Jlside.] So much thought bodes me no good. 
[Aloud.] So grave, Lydia ! 

Lyd. Sir ! 

Abs. [Aside.] So ! egad ! I thought as much ! that 
damned monosyllable has froze me ! [Aloud.] What, 
Lydia, now that we are as happy in our friends' consent, 
as in our mutual vows — 

Lyd. Friends' consent, indeed ! [Peevishly. 

Abs. Come, come, we must lay aside some of our 



140 



The Rivals. 



romance — a little wealth and comfort may be endured after 
all. And for your fortune, the lawyers shall make such 
settlements as — 

Lyd. Lawyers ! I hate lawyers ! 

Abs. Nay, then, we will not wait for their lingering 
forms, but instantly procure the licence, and — 

Lyd. The licence ! I hate licence ! 

Abs. Oh my love ! be not so unkind ! thus let me 
entreat — [Kneeling. 

Lyd. Psha! what signifies kneeling, when you know I 
must have you ? 

Abs. [Rising."] Nay, madam, there shall be no con- 
straint upon your inclinations, I promise you. If I have 
lost your heart — I resign the rest — [Aside] 'Gad, I must 
try what a little spirit will do. 

Lyd. [Rising.] Then, sir, let me tell you, the interest 
you had there was acquired by a mean, unmanly imposition, 
and deserves the punishment of fraud. What, you have 
been treating me like a child ! humouring my romance ! 
and laughing, I suppose, at your success ! 

Abs. You wrong me, Lydia, you wrong me — only hear — 

Lyd. So, while I fondly imagined we were deceiving 
my relations, and flattered myself that I should outwit and 
incense them all — behold my hopes are to be crushed at 
once, by my aunt's consent and approbation — and I am 
myself the only dupe at last ! [ Walking about in a heat.] 
But here, sir, here is the picture! Beverley's picture! 
[taking a miniature from her bosom] which I have worn, 
night and day, in spite of threats and entreaties ! There, 
sir ; [flings it to him] and be assured I throw the original 
from my heart as easily. 



The Rivals. 143 



Abs. Nay, nay, ma'am, we will not differ as to that. 
Here, [taking out a picture] here is Miss Lydia Languish. 
What a difference ! ay, there is the heavenly assenting 
smile that first gave soul and spirit to my hopes ! those are 
the lips which sealed a vow, as yet scarce dry in Cupid's 
calendar ! and there the half-resentful blush, that would 
have checked the ardour of my thanks! Well, all that's 
past ! all over indeed ! There, madam — in beauty, that 
copy is not equal to you, but in my mind its merit over the 
original, in being still the same, is such — that — I cannot find 
in my heart to part with it. [Puts it up again. 

Lyd. [Softening.'] 'T is your own doing, sir — I, I, I 
suppose you are perfectly satisfied. 

Abs. O, most certainly — sure, now, this is much better 
than being in love ! ha ! ha ! ha ! there 's some spirit in 
this ! What signifies breaking some scores of solemn 
promises : all that 's of no consequence, you know. To be 
sure people will say, that miss don't know her own mind — 
but never mind that ! Or, perhaps, they may be ill-natured 
enough to hint, that the gentleman grew tired of the lady 
and forsook her — but don't let that fret you. 

Lyd. There is no bearing his insolence. 

[Bursts into tears. 

Re-enter Mrs. Malaprop and Sir Anthony Absolute. 

Mrs. Mal. Come, we must interrupt your billing and 
cooing a while. 

Lyd. This is worse than your treachery and deceit, you 
base ingrate ! [Sobbing. 

Sir Anth. What the devil 's the matter now ! Zounds ! 



144 



The Rivals. 



Mrs. Malaprop, this is the oddest billing and cooing I ever 
heard ! but what the deuce is the meaning of it ? I am 
quite astonished ! 

Abs. Ask the lady, sir. 

Mrs. Mal. Oh mercy ! I 'm quite analysed, for my 
part ! Why, Lydia, what is the reason of this ? 

Lyd. Ask the gentleman, ma'am. 

Sir Anth. Zounds ! I shall be in a frenzy ! Why, 
Jack, you are not come out to be any one else, are you ? 

Mrs. Mal. Ay, sir, there 's no more trick, is there ? you 
are not like Cerberus, three gentlemen at once, are you ? 

Abs. You'll not let me speak — I say the lady can 
account for this much better than I can. 

Lyd. Ma'am, you once commanded me never to think 
of Beverley again — there is the man — I now obey you : for, 
from this moment, I renounce him for ever. 

Mrs. Mal. O mercy ! and miracles ! what a turn here is 
— why sure, captain, you have n't behaved disrespectfully to 
my niece. [Exit. 

Sir Anth. Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! now I see it. Ha ! 
ha ! ha ! now I see it — you have been too lively, Jack. 

Abs. Nay, sir, upon my word — 

Sir Anth. Come, no lying, Jack — I 'm sure 't was so. 

Mrs. Mal. O Lud ! Sir Anthony ! — O fy, captain. 

Abs. Upon my soul, ma'am — 

Sir Anth. Come, no excuses, Jack ; why, your father, 
you rogue, was so before you : the blood of the Absolutes 
was always impatient. Ha ! ha ! ha ! poor little Lydia ! 
why, you 've frightened her, you dog, you have. 

Abs. By all that 's good, sir — 



The Rivals. 145 



Sir Anth. Zounds ! say no more, I tell you — Mrs. 
Malaprop shall make your peace. You must make his peace, 
Mrs. Malaprop: you must tell her 't is Jack's way — tell 
her 'tis all our ways — it runs in the blood of our family ! 
— Come away, Jack— Ha! ha! ha! Mrs. Malaprop — a 
young villain. {Pushing him out. 

Mrs. Mal. O ! Sir Anthony ! — O fy, captain ! 

[Exeunt severally. 



Scene III. — The North Parade. 

Enter Sir Lucius O'Trigger. 

Sir Luc. I wonder where this Captain Absolute hides 
himself ! Upon my conscience ! these ©fficers are always 
in one's way in love affairs : I remember I might have 
married Lady Dorothy Carmine, if it had not been for a 
little rogue of a major who ran away with her before she 
could get a sight of me ! And I wonder too what it is the 
ladies can see in them to be so fond of them — unless it be 
a touch of the old serpent in 'em, that makes the little 
creatures be caught, like vipers, with a bit of red cloth. 
Ha ! is n't this the captain coming ? faith it is ! There 
is a probability of succeeding about that fellow, that is 
mighty provoking ! Who the devil is he talking to ? 

{Steps aside. 

Enter Captain Absolute. 

Abs. [Aside.] To what fine purpose I have been plot- 
ting ! a noble reward for all my schemes, upon my soul ! — 



146 The Rivals. 



a little gipsy ! — I did not think her romance could have 
made her so damned absurd either. 'Sdeath, I never was in 
a worse humour in my life ! I could cut my own throat, 
or any other person's, with the greatest pleasure in the 
world ! 

Sir Luc. Oh, faith ! I 'm in the luck of it, I never could 
have found him in a sweeter temper for my purpose — to 
be sure I 'm just come in the nick! Now to enter into con- 
versation with him, and so quarrel genteelly. [Goes up to 
Captain Absolute.] With regard to that matter, captain, 
I must beg leave to differ in opinion with you. 

Abs. Upon my word, then, you must be a very subtle 
disputant: because, sir, I happened just then to be giving 
no opinion at all. 

Sir Luc. That's no reason. For give me leave to tell 
you, a man may think an untruth as well as speak one. 

Abs. Very true, sir; but if a man never utters his 
thoughts, I should think they might stand a chance of 
escaping controversy. 

Sir Luc. Then, sir, you differ in opinion with me, 
which amounts to the same thing. 

Abs. Hark 'ee, Sir Lucius ; if I had not before known 
you to be a gentleman, upon my soul, I should not have 
discovered it at this interview : for what you can drive at, 
unless you mean to quarrel with me, I cannot conceive ! 

Sir Luc. I humbly thank you, sir, for the quickness of 
your apprehension. \Bowing^\ You have named the very 
thing I would be at. 

Abs. Very well, sir; I shall certainly not balk your 
inclinations. But I should be glad you would please to 
explain your motives. 



The Rivals. 147 



Sir Luc. Pray sir, be easy ; the quarrel is a very pretty 
quarrel as it stands ; we should only spoil it by trying to 
explain it. However, your memory is very short, or you 
could not have forgot an affront you passed on me within 
this week. So, no more, but name your time and place. 

Abs. Well, sir, since you are so bent on it, the sooner 
the better; let it be this evening — here, by the Spring 
Gardens. We shall scarcely be interrupted. 

Sir Luc. Faith ! that same interruption in affairs of this 
nature shows very great ill-breeding. I don't know what 's 
the reason, but in England, if a thing of this kind gets 
wind, people make such a pother, that a gentleman can 
never fight in peace and quietness. However, if it 's the 
same to you, captain, I should take it as a particular kind- 
ness if you 'd let us meet in King's-Mead-Fields, as a little 
business will call me there about six o'clock, and I may 
despatch both matters at once. 

Abs. 'T is the same to me exactly. A little after six, 
then, we will discuss this matter more seriously. 

Sir Luc. If you please, sir ; there will be very pretty, 
small-sword light, though it won't do for a long shot. So 
that matter settled, and my mind's at ease ! \Exit. 

Enter Faulkland. 

Abs. Well met ! I was going to look for you. O Faulk- 
land ! all the demons of spite and disappointment have con- 
spired against me ! I 'm so vexed, that if I had not the 
prospect of a resource in being knocked o' the head by and 
by, I should scarce have spirits to tell you the cause. 

Faulk. What can you mean ? Has Lydia changed her 



148 The Rivals. 



mind ? I should have thought her duty and inclination 
would now have pointed to the same object. 

Abs. Ay, just as the eyes do of a person who squints : 
when her love-eye was fixed on me, t'other, her eye of duty, 
was finely obliqued : but when duty bid her point that the 
same way, off t'other turned on a swivel, and secured its 
retreat with a frown ! 

Faulk. But what 's the resource you — 

Abs. Oh, to wind up the whole, a good-natured Irish- 
man here has [Mimicking Sir Lucius] begged leave to 
have the pleasure of cutting my throat ; and I mean to in- 
dulge him — that 's all. 

Faulk. Prithee, be serious ! 

Abs. 'T is fact, upon my soul ! Sir Lucius O'Trigger — 
you know him by sight — for some affront, which I am sure 
I never intended, has obliged me to meet him this evening 
at six o'clock: 't is on that account I wished to see you; 
you must go with me. 

Faulk. Nay, there must be some mistake, sure. Sir 
Lucius shall explain himself, and I dare say matters may be 
accommodated. But this evening did you say ? I wish it 
had been any other time. 

Abs. Why ? there will be light enough : there will (as 
Sir Lucius says) be very pretty small-sword light, though it 
will not do for a long shot. Confound his long shots. 

Faulk. But I am myself a good deal ruffled by a differ- 
ence I have had with Julia. My vile tormenting temper 
has made me treat her so cruelly, that I shall not be myself 
till we are reconciled. 

Abs. By heavens ! Faulkland, you don't deserve her ! 



The Rivals. 149 



Enter Servant, gives Faulkland a letter, and exit. 

Faulk. Oh, Jack ! this is from Julia. I dread to open 
it ! I fear it may be to take a last leave, — perhaps to bid 
me return her letters, and restore — Oh, how I suffer for 
my folly ! 

Abs. Here, let me see. [Takes the letter and opens it.~\ 
Ay, a final sentence, indeed ! — 't is all over with you, 
faith ! 

Faulk. Nay, Jack, don't keep me in suspense ! 

Abs. Hear then. [Reads.] As I am convinced that 
my dear Faulkland' s own reflections have already upbraided 
him for his last unkiuducss to me, I will not add a word on 
the subject. I wish to speak zuithyou as soon as possible. Yours 
ever and truly, Julia. There 's stubbornness and resent- 
ment for you ! [Gives him the letter.'] Why, man, you 
don't seem one whit the happier at this ! 

Faulk. O yes, I am ; but — but — 

Abs. Confound your buts ! you never hear anything 
that would make another man bless himself, but you imme- 
diately damn it with a but ! 

Faulk. Now, Jack, as you are my friend, own honestly 
— don't you think there is something forward, something 
indelicate, in this haste to forgive ? Women should never 
sue for reconciliation : that should always come from us. 
They should retain their coldness till wooed to kindness ; 
and their pardon, like their love, should " not unsought be 
won." 

Abs. I have not patience to listen to you ! thou 'rt in- 
corrigible ! so say no more on the subject. I must go to 



150 The Rivals. 



settle a few matters. Let me see you before six, remember, 
at my lodgings. A poor industrious devil like me, who 
have toiled, and drudged, and plotted to gain my ends, and 
am at last disappointed by other people's folly, may in pity 
be allowed to swear and grumble a little ; but a captious 
sceptic in love, a slave to fretfulness and whim, who has no 
difficulties but of his own creating, is a subject more fit for 
ridicule than compassion ! \Exit. 

Faulk. I feel his reproaches ; yet I would not change 
this too exquisite nicety for the gross content with which 
he tramples on the thorns of love ! His engaging me in 
this duel has started an idea in my head, which I will in- 
stantly- pursue. I'll use it as the touchstone of Julia's sin- 
cerity and disinterestedness. If her love prove pure and 
sterling ore, my name will rest on it with honour ; and once 
I've stamped it there, I lay aside my doubts for ever! But 
if the dross of selfishness, the alloy of pride, predominate, 
't will be best to leave her as a toy for some less cautious 
fool to sigh for ! {Exit. 




Scene I. — Julia's Dressing-Room. 

Julia discovered alone. 

Jul. How this message has alarmed me ! What dread- 
ful accident can he mean ? why such charge to be alone ? 
O Faulkland ! how many unhappy moments — how many 
tears have you cost me. 

Enter Faulkland. 

Jul. What means this ? why this caution, Faulkland ? 

Faulk. Alas ! Julia, I am come to take a long farewell. 

Jul. Heavens ! what do you mean ? 

Faulk. You see before you a wretch, whose life is for- 
feited. Nay, start not ! the infirmity of my temper has 
drawn all this misery on me. I left you fretful and pas- 
sionate — an untoward accident drew me into a quarrel — 
the event is, that I must fly this kingdom instantly. O 
Julia, had I been so fortunate as to have called you mine 
entirely, before this mischance had fallen on me, I should 

not so deeply dread my banishment ! 

151 



152 The Rivals. 



Jul. My soul is oppressed with sorrow at the nature of 
your misfortune : had these adverse circumstances arisen 
from a less fatal cause, I should have felt strong comfort in 
the thought that I could now chase from your bosom every 
doubt of the warm sincerity of my love. My heart has 
long known no other guardian — I now entrust my person 
to your honour — we will fly together. When safe from 
pursuit, my father's will may be fulfilled — and I receive a 
legal claim to be the partner of your sorrows, and tenderest 
comforter. Then on the bosom of your wedded Julia, you 
may lull your keen regret to slumbering ; while virtuous 
love, with a cherub's hand, shall smooth the brow of 
upbraiding thought, and pluck the thorn from compunction. 

Faulk. O Julia ! I am bankrupt in gratitude ! but the 
time is so pressing, it calls on you for so hasty a resolution. 
Would you not wish some hours to weigh the advantages 
you forego, and what little compensation poor Faulkland 
can make you beside his solitary love ? 

Jul. I ask not a moment. No, Faulkland, I have loved 
you for yourself : and if I now, more than ever, prize the 
solemn engagement which so long has pledged us to each 
other, it is because it leaves no room for hard aspersions on 
my fame, and puts the seal of duty to an act of love. But 
let us not linger. Perhaps this delay — 

Faulk. 'T will be better I should not venture out 
again till dark. Yet am I grieved to think what number- 
less distresses will press heavy on your gentle disposition ! 

Jul. Perhaps your fortune may be forfeited by this 
unhappy act. I know not whether 't is so ; but sure that 
alone can never make us unhappy. The little I have will 



The Rivals. 153 



be sufficient to support us ; and exile never should be 
splendid. 

Faulk. Ay, but in such an abject state of life, my 
wounded pride perhaps may increase the natural fretful- 
ness of my temper, till I become a rude, morose companion, 
beyond your patience to endure. Perhaps the recollection 
of a deed my conscience cannot justify may haunt me in 
such gloomy and unsocial fits that I shall hate the tender- 
ness that would relieve me, break from your arms, and 
quarrel with your fondness ! 

Jul. If your thoughts should assume so unhappy a 
bent, you will the more want some mild and affectionate 
spirit to watch over and console you : one who, by bearing 
your infirmities with gentleness and resignation, may teach 
you so to bear the evils of your fortune. 

Faulk. Julia, I have proved you to the quick ! and 
with this useless device I throw away all my doubts. How 
shall I plead to be forgiven this last unworthy effect of my 
restless, unsatisfied disposition ? 

Jul. Has no such disaster happened as you related? 

Faulk. I am ashamed to own that it was pretended ; 
yet in pity, Julia, do not kill me with resenting a fault 
which never can be repeated : but sealing, this once, my 
pardon, let me to-morrow, in the face of Heaven, receive 
my future guide and monitress, and expiate my past folly 
by years of tender adoration. 

Jul. Hold, Faulkland ! that you are free from a crime, 
which I before feared to name, Heaven knows how sin- 
cerely I rejoice! These are tears of thankfulness for that ! 
But that your cruel doubts should have urged you to an 



154 The Rivals. 



imposition that has wrung my heart, gives me now a pang 
more keen than I can express ! 

Faulk. By heavens ! Julia — 

Jul. Yet hear me. My father loved you, Faulkland ! 
and you preserved the life that tender parent gave me ; in 
his presence I pledged my hand — joyfully pledged it — 
where before I had given my heart. When, soon after, I 
lost that parent, it seemed to me that Providence had, in 
Faulkland, shown me whither to transfer without a pause, 
my grateful duty, as well as my affection : hence I have 
been content to bear from you what pride and delicacy 
would have forbid me from another. I will not upbraid 
you, by repeating how you have trifled with my sincerity — 

Faulk. I confess it all ! yet hear — 

Jul. After such a year of trial, I might have flattered 
myself that I should not have been insulted with a new 
probation of my sincerity as cruel as unnecessary ! I now 
see it is not in your nature to be content or confident in 
love. With this conviction — I never will be yours. While 
I had hopes that my persevering attention, and unreproach- 
ing kindness, might in time reform your temper, I should 
have been happy to have gained a dearer influence over 
you ; but I will not furnish you with a licenced power to 
keep alive an incorrigible fault, at the expense of one who 
never would contend with you. 

Faulk. Nay, but, Julia, by my soul and honour, if after 
this — 

Jul. But one word more. As my faith has once been 
given to you, I never will barter it with another. I shall 
pray for your happiness with the truest sincerity ; and the 



The Rivals. \rc 



dearest blessing I can ask of Heaven to send you will be 
to charm you from that unhappy temper, which alone has 
prevented the performance of our solemn engagement. All 
I request of you is, that you will yourself reflect upon this 
infirmity, and when you number up the many true delights 
it has deprived you of, let it not be your least regret, that 
it lost you the love of one who would have followed you in 
beggary through the world ! [Exit 

Faulk. She 's gone— for ever ! There was an awful 
resolution in her manner, that riveted me to my place. O 
fool ! dolt ! barbarian ! Cursed as I am, with more im- 
perfections than my fellow wretches, kind Fortune sent a 
heaven-gifted cherub to my aid, and, like a ruffian, I have 
driven her from my side ! I must now haste to my appoint- 
ment. Well, my mind is tuned for such a scene. I shall 
wish only to become a principal in it, and reverse the tale 
my cursed folly put me upon forging here. O Love ! tor- 
mentor ! fiend ! whose influence, like the moon's, acting 
on men of dull souls, makes idiots of them, but meeting 
subtler spirits, betrays their course, and urges sensibility 
to madness. [Exif 

Enter Lydia and Maid. 
Maid. My mistress, ma'am, I know, was here just now 
— perhaps she is only in the next room. [Exit. 

Lyd. Heigh-ho! Though he has used me so, this 
fellow runs strangely in my head. I believe one lecture 
from my grave cousin will make me recall him. 

Re-enter Julia. 
O Julia, I am come to you with such an appetite for con- 
solation. Lud ! child, what 's the matter with you ? You 



156 The Rivals. 



have been crying ! I '11 be hanged if that Faulkland has not 
been tormenting you ! 

Jul. You mistake the cause of my uneasiness ! Some- 
thing has flurried me a little. Nothing that you can guess 
at. [Aside.] I would not accuse Faulkland to a sister ! 

Lyd. Ah ! whatever vexations you may have, I can 
assure you mine surpass them. You know who Beverley 
proves to be ? 

Jul. I will now own to you, Lydia, that Mr. Faulkland 
had before informed me of the whole affair. Had young 
Absolute been the person you took him for, I should not 
have accepted your confidence on the subject, without a 
serious. endeavour to counteract your caprice. 

Lyd. So, then, I see I have been deceived by every one ! 
But I don't care — I '11 never have him. 

Jul. Nay, Lydia — 

Lyd. Why, is it not provoking ? when I thought we 
were coming to the prettiest distress imaginable, to find 
myself made a mere Smithfield bargain of at last ! There 
had I projected one of the most sentimental elopements ! 
so becoming a disguise ! so amiable a ladder of ropes ! Con- 
scious moon — -four horses — Scotch parson — with such 
surprise to Mrs. Malaprop — and such paragraphs in the 
newspapers ! Oh, I shall die with disappointment ! 

Jul. I don't wonder at it ! 

Lyd. Now — sad reverse ! what have I to expect, but, 
after a deal of flimsy preparation with a bishop's licence, 
and my aunt's blessing, to go simpering up to the altar ; or 
perhaps be cried three times in a country church, and have 
an unmannerly fat clerk ask the consent of every butcher 



The Rivals. 



159 



in the parish to join John Absolute and Lydia Languish, 
spinster ! Oh that I should live to hear myself called 
spinster ! 

Jul. Melancholy indeed ! 

Lyd. How mortifying, to remember the dear delicious 
shifts I used to be put to, to gain half a minute's conversa- 







tion with this fellow ! How often have I stole forth, in the 
coldest night in January, and found him in the garden, stuck 
like a dripping statue ! There would he kneel to me in the 
snow, and sneeze and cough so pathetically ! he shivering 
with cold and I with apprehension ! and while the freezing 
blast numbed our joints, how warmly would he press me 



160 The Rivals. 



to pity his flame, and glow with mutual ardour ! Ah, Julia, 
that was something" like being in love. 

Jul. If I were in spirits, Lydia, I should chide you 
only by laughing heartily at you ; but it suits more the sit- 
uation of my mind, at present, earnestly to entreat you not 
to let a man, who loves you with sincerity, suffer that un- 
happiness from your caprice, which I know too well caprice 
can inflict. 

Lyd. O Lud ! what has brought my aunt here ? 

Enter Mrs. Malaprop, Fag, and David. 

Mrs. Mal. So ! so ! here 's fine work ! here 's fine suicide, 
parricide, and simulation, going on in the fields ! and Sir 
Anthony not to be found to prevent the antistrophe ! 

Jul. For Heaven's sake, madam, what 's the meaning of 
this ? 

Mrs. Mal. That gentleman can tell you — 't was he 
enveloped the affair to me. 

Lyd. Do, sir, will you, inform us ? [To Fag. 

Fag. Ma'am, I should hold myself very deficient in 
every requisite that forms the man of breeding, if I delayed 
a moment to give all the information in my power to a lady 
so deeply interested in the affair as you are. 

Lyd. But quick ! quick, sir ! 

Fag. True, ma'am, as you say, one should be quick in 
divulging matters of this nature ; for should we be tedious, 
perhaps while we are flourishing on the subject, two or 
three lives may be lost ! 

Lyd. O patience ! Do, ma'am, for Heaven's sake ! 
tell us what is the matter ? 



The Rivals. 161 



Mrs. Mal. Why, murder 's the matter ! slaughter 's the 
matter ! killing 's the matter ! but he can tell you the 
perpendiculars. 

Lyd. Then, prithee, sir, be brief. 

Fag. Why then, ma'am, as to murder — I cannot take 
upon me to say — and as to slaughter, or manslaughter, 
that will be as the jury finds it. 

Lyd. But who, sir — who are engaged in this ? 

Fag. Faith, ma'am, one is a young gentleman whom I 
should be very sorry anything was to happen to — a very 
pretty behaved gentleman ! We have lived much together, 
and always on terms. 

Lyd. But who is this ? who ! who ! who ? 

Fag. My master, ma'am — my master — I speak of my 
master. 

Lyd. Heavens! What, Captain Absolute ! 

Mrs. Mal. Oh, to be sure, you are frightened now! 

Jul. But who are with him, sir ? 

Fag. As to the rest, ma'am, this gentleman can inform 
you better than I. 

Jul. Do speak, friend. To David. 

Dav. Look 'ee, my lady — by the mass! there 's mis- 
chief going on. Folks don't use to meet for amusement with 
fire-arms, firelocks, fire-engines, fire-screens, fire-office, and 
the devil knows what other crackers beside ! — This, my 
lady, I say has an angry favour. 

Jul. But who is there beside Captain Absolute, friend ? 

Dav. My poor master — under favour for mentioning 
him first. You know me, my lady — I am David — and 
my master of course is, or was, Squire Acres. Then 
comes Squire Faulkland. 



1 62 The Rivals. 



Jul. Do, ma'am, let us instantly endeavour to prevent 
mischief. 

Mrs. Mal. O f y ! it would be very inelegant in us : we 
should only participate things. 

Dav. Ah ! do, Mrs. Aunt, save a few lives — they are 
desperately given, believe me. Above all, there is that 
blood-thirsty Philistine, Sir Lucius OTrigger. 

Mrs. Mal. Sir Lucius OTrigger? O mercy! have 
they drawn poor little dear Sir Lucius into the scrape ? 
Why, how you stand, girl ! you have no more feeling 
than one of the Derbyshire petrifactions! 

Lyd. What are we to do, madam ? 

Mrs. Mal. Why fly with the utmost felicity, to be 
sure, to prevent mischief ! Here, friend, you can show us 
the place ? 

Fag. If you please, ma'am, I will conduct you. David, 
do you look for Sir Anthony. [Exit David. 

Mrs. Mal. Come, girls ! this gentleman will exhort us. 
Come, sir, you 're our envoy — lead the way, and we '11 
precede. 

Fag. Not a step before the ladies for the world ! 

Mrs. Mal. You 're sure you know the spot ? 

Fag. I think I can find it, ma'am ; and one good thing 

is, we shall hear the report of the pistols as we draw near, 

so we can't well miss them ; never fear, ma'am, never 
fear. [Exeunt, he talking. 






The Rivals. 



16: 



Scene II. — The South Parade. 

Enter Captain Absolute, putting his sword tender his 

great coat. 

Abs. A sword seen in the streets of Bath would raise 
as great an alarm as a mad dog. How provoking this is 
in Faulkland ! never punctual ! I shall 
be obliged to go without him at last. Oh, 
the devil ! here 's Sir Anthony ! how shall 
I escape him ? 

[Muffles up his face and takes a circle 
to go off. 

Enter Sir Anthony Absolute. 

Sir Anth. How one may be deceived 
at a little distance ! only that I see he 
don't know me, I could have sworn that 
was Jack ! Hey ! Gad's life ! it is. Why, 
Jack, what are you afraid of ? hey ! — 
sure I 'm right. Why Jack, Jack Abso- 
lute ! \Goes up to him. 

Abs. Really, sir, you have the advan- 
tage of me : I don't remember ever to have had the 
honour — my name is Saunderson, at your service. 

Sir Anth. Sir, I beg your pardon — I took you — hey ? 
— -why, zounds! it is — Stay — [Looks up to his face.] So, 
so — your humble servant, Mr. Saunderson! Why, you 
scoundrel, what tricks are you after now ? 

Abs. Oh, a joke, sir, a joke ! I came here on purpose 
to look for vou, sir. 




1 66 The Rivals. 



Sir Anth. You did! well, I am glad you were so 
lucky : but what are you muffled up so for ? what 's this 
for ? hey ! 

Abs. 'T is cool, sir; isn't? rather chilly somehow: but 
I shall be late — I have a particular engagement. 

Sir Anth. Stay ! Why, I thought you were looking 
for me ? Pray, Jack, where is 't you are going? 

Abs. Going, sir ! 

Sir Anth. Ay, where are you going ? 

Abs. Where am I going ? 

Sir Anth. You unmannerly puppy ! 

Abs. I was going, sir, to — to — to — to Lydia — sir, 
to Lydia — to make matters up if I could; and I was 
looking for you, sir, to — to — 

Sir Anth. To go with you, I suppose. Well, come 
along. 

Abs. Oh ! zounds ! no, sir, not for the world ! I 
wished to meet with you, sir, — to — to — to — You find 
it cool, I 'm sure, sir — you 'd better not stay out. 

Sir Anth. Cool! not at all. Well, Jack — and what 
will you say to Lydia ? 

Abs. Oh, sir, beg her pardon, humour her — promise 
and vow : but I detain you, sir, — consider the cold air on 
your gout. 

Sir Anth. Oh, not at all ! not at all ! I 'm in no hurry. 
Ah ! Jack, you youngsters, when once you are wounded 
here — {Putting Ids Jiand to Captain Absolute's breast, .] 
Hey! what the deuce have you got here ? 

Abs. Nothing, sir — nothing! 

Sir Anth. What 's this? here 's something damned hard. 



The Rivals. 



167 



Abs. Oh, trinkets, sir ! trinkets ! a bauble for Lydia ! 

Sir Anth. Nay, let me see your taste. [Pulls his coat 
open, the sword /alls.] Trinkets ! a bauble for Lydia ! 
Zounds ! sirrah, you are not going to cut her throat, are 
you ? 

Abs. Ha ! ha ! ha ! I thought it would divert you, sir, 
though I did n't mean to tell you till afterwards. 




Sir Anth. You did n't ? Yes, this is a very diverting 
trinket, truly ! 

Abs. Sir, I '11 explain to you. You know, sir, Lydia is 
romantic, devilish romantic, and very absurd of course : 
now, sir, I intend, if she refuses to forgive me, to unsheath 
this sword, and swear — I '11 fall upon its point, and expire 
at her feet ! 



i,68 The Rivals. 



Sir Anth. Fall upon a fiddlestick's end ! why, I sup- 
pose it is the very thing that would please her. Get along, 
you fool ! 

Abs. Well, sir, you shall hear of my success — you shall 
hear. O Lydia ! forgive me, or this pointed steel — says I. 

Sir Anth. O, booby ! stab away and welcome — says she. 
Get along ! and damn your trinkets ! 

[Exit Captain Absolute. 

Enter David, running. 

Dav. Stop him ! stop him ! Murder ! Thief ! Fire ! 
Stop fire ! Stop fire ! O Sir Anthony — call ! call ! bid 'm 
stop! Murder ! Fire ! 

Sir Anth. Fire ! Murder ! Where ? 

Dav. Oons ! he 's out of sight ! and I 'm out of breath ! 
for my part ! O Sir Anthony, why did n't you stop him ? 
why did n't you stop him ? 

Sir Anth. Zounds ! the fellow 's mad ! Stop whom ? 
stop Jack ? 

Dav. Ay, the captain, sir ! there 's murder and 
slaughter — 

Sir Anth. Murder! 

Dav. Ay, please you, Sir Anthony, there 's all kinds of 
murder, all sorts of slaughter to be seen in the fields : there 's 
fighting going on, sir — bloody sword-and-gun fighting! 

Sir Anth. Who are going to fight, dunce ? 

Dav. Everybody that I know of, Sir Anthony : every- 
body is going to fight, my poor master, Sir Lucius 
O'Trigger, your son, the captain — 



The Rivals. 169 



Sir Anth. Oh, the dog ! I see his tricks. Do you know 
the place ? 

Dav. King's-Mead-Fields. 

Sir Anth. You know the way ? 

Dav. Not an inch ; but I '11 call the mayor — aldermen 
— constables — churchwardens — and beadles — we can't 
be too many to part them. 

Sir Anth. Come along — give me your shoulder ! we '11 
get assistance as we go — the lying villain! Well, I shall 
be in such a frenzy! So — this was the history of his 
trinkets ! I '11 bauble him ! [Exeunt. 

Scene III. Kings-Mead-Fields. 
Enter Sir Lucius O'Trigger and Acres, with pistols. 

Acres. By my valour ! then, Sir Lucius, forty yards is 
a good distance. Odd's levels and aims ! I say it is a good 
distance. 

Sir Luc. Is it for muskets or small field-pieces ? Upon 
my conscience, Mr. Acres, you must leave those things to 
me. Stay now — I '11 show you. {Measures space along 
the stage.] There now, that is a very pretty distance — a 
pretty gentleman's distance. 

Acres. Zounds! we might as well fight in a sentry-box! 
I tell you, Sir Lucius, the farther he is off, the cooler I 
shall take my aim. 

Sir Luc. Faith ! then I suppose you would aim at him 
best of all if he was out of sisdit ! 

Acres. No, Sir Lucius ; but I should think forty or 
eight-and-thirty yards — 



170 The Rivals. 



Sir Luc. Pho ! pho ! nonsense ! three or four feet be- 
tween the mouths of your pistols is as good as a mile. 

Acres. Odd's bullets, no ! by my valour ! there is no 
merit in killing him so near : do, my dear Sir Lucius, let 
me bring him down at a long shot : a long shot, Sir Lucius, 
if you love me ! 

Sir Luc. Well, the gentleman's friend and I must settle 
that. But tell me now, Mr. Acres, in case of an accident, 
is there any little will or commission I could execute for 
you ? 

Acres. I am much obliged to you, Sir Lucius — but I 
don't understand — 

Sir Luc. Why, you may think there 's no being shot 
at without a little risk — and if an unlucky bullet should 
carry a quietus with it — I say it will be no time then to be 
bothering you about family matters. 

Acres. A quietus ? 

Sir Luc. For instance, now — if that should be the case 
— would you choose to be pickled and sent home ? or would 
it be the same to you to lie here in the Abbey ? I 'm told 
there is very snug lying in the Abbey. 

Acres. Pickled ! Snug lying in the Abbey ! Odd's 
tremors ! Sir Lucius, don't talk so ! 

Sir Luc. I suppose, Mr. Acres, you never were engaged 
in an affair of this kind before ? 

Acres. No, Sir Lucius, never before. 

Sir Luc. Ah ! that 's a pity ! there 's nothing like being 
used to a thing — Pray now, how would you receive the 
gentleman's shot ? 

Acres. Odd's files ! I 've practised that — there, Sir 



The Rivals. 171 



Lucius — there — {Puts himself in an attitude.'] A side-front, 
hey ? Odd's ! I '11 make myself small enough : I '11 stand 
edgeways. 

Sir Luc. Now — you 're quite out — for if you stand 
so when I take my aim — {Levelling at him.'] 

Acres. Zounds! Sir Lucius — are you sure it is not 
cocked ? 

Sir Luc. Never fear. 

Acres. But — but — you don't know — it may go off 
of its own head ! 

Sir Luc. Pho ! be easy. Well, now if I hit you in the 
body, my bullet has a double chance — for if it misses a 
vital part of your right side — 't will be very hard if it don't 
succeed on the left. 

Acres. A vital part ! 

Sir Luc. But, there — fix yourself so — [Placing Mm] 
— let me see the broad-side of your full front — there — 
now a ball or two may pass clean through your body, and 
never do any harm at all. 

Acres. Clean through me ! a ball or two clean through 
me! 

Sir Luc. Ay — may they — and it is much the genteel- 
ist attitude into the bargain. 

Acres. Look 'ee ! Sir Lucius — I just as lieve be shot 
in an awkward posture as a genteel one ; so, by my valour ! 
I will stand edgeways. 

Sir Luc. {Looking at his zvatc/t.~\ Sure they don't mean 
to disappoint us — Hah! no, faith — I think I see them 
coming ! 

Acres. Hey ! what ! coming ! 



172 The Rivals. 



Sir Luc. Ay. Who are those yonder getting over the 

stile ? 

Acres. There are two of them indeed ! well — let them 
come — hey, Sir Lucius ! we — we — we — we — won't run. 

Sir Luc. Run ! 

Acres. No — I say — we won't run, by my valour ! 

Sir Luc. What the devil 's the matter with you? 

Acres. Nothing — nothing — my dear friend — my dear 
Sir Lucius — but I — I — I don't feel quite so bold, some- 
how, as I did. 

Sir Luc. O fy ! consider your honour. 

Acres. Ay — true — my honour. Do, Sir Lucius, edge 
in a word or two every now and then about my honour. 

Sir Luc. Well, here they 're coming. ^Looking. 

Acres. Sir Lucius — if I wa' n't with you, I should 
almost think I was afraid. If my valour should leave me ! 
Valour will come and go. 

Sir Luc. Then pray keep it fast, while you have it. 

Acres. Sir Lucius — I doubt it is going — yes — my 
valour is certainly going ! it is sneaking off ! I feel it oozing 
out as it were at the palms of my hands ! 

Sir Luc. Your honour — your honour. Here they are. 

Acres. O mercy ! now — that I was safe at Cl-od-hall! 
or could be shot before I was aware ! 

Enter Faulkland and Captain Absolute. 

Sir Luc. Gentlemen, your most obedient — Hah! — 
what, Captain Absolute ! So, I suppose, sir, you are come 
here just like myself — to do a kind office, first for your 
friend — then to proceed to business on your own account. 



The Rivals. 175 



Acres. What, Jack ! my dear Jack ! my dear friend ! 

Abs. Hark 'ee, Bob, Beverley 's at hand. 

Sir Luc. Well, Mr. Acres — I don't blame your saluting 
the gentleman civilly. [To Faulkland.] So, Mr. Bev- 
erley if you '11 choose your weapons, the captain and I will 
measure the ground. 

Faulk. My weapons, sir ! 

Acres. Odd's life ! Sir Lucius, I 'm not going to fight 
Mr. Faulkland ; these are my particular friends. 

Sir Luc. What, sir, did you not come here to fight Mr. 
Acres. 

Faulk. Not I, upon my word, sir. 

Sir Luc. Well, now, that 's mighty provoking ! But I 
hope, Mr. Faulkland, as there are three of us come on pur- 
pose for the game, you won't be so cantankerous as to spoil 
the party by sitting out. 

Abs. O pray, Faulkland, fight to oblige Sir Lucius. 

Faulk. Nay, if Mr. Acres is so bent on the matter — 

Acres. No, no, Mr. Faulkland; — I '11 bear my disap- 
pointment like a Christian. Look 'ee, Sir Lucius, there 's 
no occasion at all for me to fight ; and if it is the same to 
you, I 'd as lieve let it alone. 

Sir Luc. Observe me, Mr. Acres — I must not be 
trifled with. You have certainly challenged somebody — 
and you came here to fight him. Now, if that gentleman is 
willing to represent him — I can't see, for my soul, why it 
is n't just the same thing. 

Acres. Why no — Sir Lucius — I tell you, 'tis one 
Beverley I've challenged — a fellow, you see, that dare not 
show his face ! If he were here, I 'd make him give up his 
pretensions directly ! 



176 The Rivals. 



Abs. Hold, Bob — let me set you right — there is no 
such man as Beverley in the case. The person who 
assumed that name is before you ; and as his pretensions 
are the same in both characters, he is ready to support 
them in whatever way you please. 

Sir Luc. Well, this is lucky. Now you have an 
opportunity — 

Acres. What, quarrel with my dear friend Jack 
Absolute ? not if he were fifty Beverleys ! Zounds ! Sir 
Lucius, you would not have me so unnatural. 

Sir Luc. Upon my conscience, Mr. Acres, your valour 
has oozed away with a vengeance ! 

Acres. Not in the least ! Odd's backs and abettors ! 
I '11 be your second with all my heart — and if you should 
get a quietus, you may command me entirely. I '11 get you 
snug lying in the Abbey here ; or pickle you, and send you 
over to Blunderbuss-Hall, or anything of the kind, with 
the greatest pleasure. 

Sir Luc. Pho ! pho ! you are little better than a 
coward. 

Acres. Mind, gentlemen, he calls me a coward ; coward 
was the word, by my valour ! 

Sir Luc. Well, sir ? 

Acres. Look 'ee, Sir Lucius, 't is n't that I mind the 
word coward — coward maybe said in joke — But if you 
had called me a poltroon, odd's daggers and balls — 

Sir Luc. Well, sir? . 

Acres. I should have thought you a very ill-bred man. 

Sir Luc. Pho ! you are beneath my notice. 

Abs. Nay, Sir Lucius, you can't have a better second 



The Rivals. 1 7 7 



than my friend Acres. He is a most determined dog — 
called in the country, Fighting Bob. He generally kills a 
man a week — don't you, Bob ? 

Acres. Ay — at home ! 

Sir Luc. Well, then, captain, 'tis we must begin — so 
come out, my little counsellor — [Drazus his sword'] — and 
ask the gentleman, whether he will resign the lady, without 
forcing you to proceed against him ? 

Abs. Come on then, sir [Draws'] ; since you won't let it 
be an amicable suit, here 's my reply. 

Enter Sir Anthony Absolute, David, Mrs. Malaprop, 

Lydia, and Julia. 

Dav. Knock 'em all down, sweet Sir Anthony ; knock 
down my master in particular ; and bind his hands over to 
their good behaviour ! 

Sir Anth. Put up, Jack, put up, or I shall be in a 
frenzy — how came you in a duel, sir ? 

Abs. Faith, sir, that gentleman can tell you better than 
I ; 't was he called on me, and you know, sir, I serve his 
majesty. 

Sir Anth. Here 's a pretty fellow ; I catch him going 
to cut a man's throat, and he tells me, he serves his majesty ! 
Zounds ! sirrah, then how durst you draw the king's sword 
against one of his subjects ? 

Abs. Sir, I tell you ! that gentleman called me out, 
without explaining his reasons. 

Sir Anth. Gad ! sir, how came you to call my son out, 
without explaining your reasons ? 



i/8 The Rivals. 



Sir Luc. Your son, sir, insulted me in a manner which 
my honour could not brook. 

Sir Anth. Zounds ! Jack, how durst you insult the 
gentleman in a manner which his honour could not brook ? 

Mrs. Mal. Come, come, let 's have no honour before 
ladies. Captain Absolute, come here. How could you 
intimidate us so ? Here 's Lydia has been terrified to death 
for you. 

Abs. For fear I should be killed, or escape, ma'am ? 

Mrs. Mal. Nay, no delusions to the past — Lydia is 
convinced ; speak, child. 

Sir Luc. With your leave, ma'am, I must put in a word 
here •: I believe I could interpret the young lady's silence. 
Now mark — 

Lvd. What is it you mean, sir ? 

Sir Luc. Come, come, Delia, we must be serious now 
— this is no time for trifling. 

Lyd. 'T is true, sir; and your reproof bids me offer this 
gentleman my hand, and solicit the return of his affections. 

Abs. O! my little angel, say you so! Sir Lucius — I 
perceive there must be some mistake here, with regard to 
the affront which you affirm I have given you. I can only 
say, that it could not have been intentional. And as you 
must be convinced, that I should not fear to support a real 
injury — you shall now see that I am not ashamed to atone 
for an inadvertency — I ask your pardon. But for this lady, 
while honoured with her approbation, I will support my 
claim against any man whatever. 

Sir Axth. Well said, Jack, and I '11 stand by you, my 
boy. 



The Rivals. 179 



Acres. Mind, I give up all my claim — I make no preten- 
sions to anything in the world ; and if I can't get a wife 
without fighting for her, by my valour ! I '11 live a bachelor. 

Sir Luc. Captain, give me your hand : an affront hand- 
somely acknowledged becomes an obligation ; and as for the 
lady, if she chooses to deny her own handwriting, here — 

[Takes out letters. 

Mrs. Mal. O, he will dissolve my mystery ! Sir Lucius, 
perhaps there 's some mistake — perhaps I can illuminate — 

Sir Luc. Pray, old gentlewoman, don't interfere where 
you have no business. Miss Languish, are you my Delia 
or not ? 

Lyd. Indeed, Sir Lucius, I am not. 

[Walks aside with Captain Absolute. 

Mrs. Mal. Sir Lucius O'Trigger — ungrateful as you 
are — I own the soft impeachment — pardon my blushes, I 
am Delia. 

Sir Luc. You Delia — pho ! pho ! be easy. 

Mrs. Mal. Why, thou barbarous Vandyke — those 
letters are mine — When you are more sensible of my 
benignity — perhaps I maybe brought to encourage your 
addresses. 

Sir Luc. Mrs. Malaprop, I am extremely sensible of 
your condescension ; and whether you or Lucy have put 
this trick on me, I am equally beholden to you. And, to 
show you I am not ungrateful, Captain Absolute, since you 
have taken that lady from me, I '11 give you my Delia into 
the bargain. 

Abs. I am much obliged to you, Sir Lucius ; but here \s 
my friend, Fighting Bob, unprovided for. 



i So The Rivals. 



Sir Luc. Hah ! little Valour — here, will you make 
your fortune ? 

Acres. Ocld's wrinkles ! No. But give me your hand, 
Sir Lucius, forget and forgive ; but if ever I give you a 
chance of pickling me again, say Bob Acres is a dunce, 
that 's all. 

Sir Anth. Come, Mrs. Malaprop, don't be cast down — 
you are in your bloom yet. 

Mrs. Mal. O Sir Anthony — men are all barbarians. 

[All retire but Julia and Faulkland. 

Jul. [Aside.] He seems dejected and unhappy — not 
sullen ; there was some foundation, however, for the tale he 
told me — O woman ! how true should be your judgment, 
when your resolution is so weak ! 

Faulk. Julia ! how can I sue for what I so little deserve ? 
I dare not presume — yet Hope is the child of Penitence. 

Jul. Oh ! Faulkland, you have not been more faulty in 
your unkind treatment of me, than I am now in wanting 
inclination to resent it. As my heart honestly bids me 
place my weakness to the account of love, I should be 
ungenerous not to admit the same plea for yours. 

Faulk. Now I shall be blest indeed ! 

Sir Anth. [Coming forward.] What 's going on here ? 
So you have been quarrelling too, I warrant ! Come, Julia, 
I never interfered before ; but let me have a hand in the 
matter at last. All the faults I have ever seen in my friend 
Faulkland seem to proceed from what he calls the delicacy 
and warmth of his affection for you. There, marry him 
directly, Julia ; you '11 find he '11 mend surprisingly ! 

[The rest come forward. 



The Rivals. 183 






Sir Luc. Come, now, I hope there is no dissatisfied 
person, but what is content ; for as I have been disap- 
pointed myself, it will be very hard if I have not the 
satisfaction of seeing other people succeed better. 

Acres. You are right, Sir Lucius. So Jack, I wish 
you joy — Mr. Faulkland the same. Ladies, — come now, 
to show you I 'm neither vexed nor angry, odd's tabors 
and pipes ! I '11 order the fiddles in half an hour to the 
New Rooms — and I insist on your all meeting me there. 

Sir Anth. 'Gad ! sir, I like your spirit ; and at night 
we single lads will drink a health to the young couples, 
and a husband to Mrs. Malaprop. 

Faulk. Our partners are stolen from us, Jack — I hope 
to be congratulated by each other — yours for having 
checked in time the errors of an ill-directed imagination, 
which might have betrayed an innocent heart ; and mine, 
for having, by her gentleness and candour, reformed the 
unhappy temper of one, who by it made wretched whom 
he loved most, and tortured the heart he ought to have 
adored. 

Abs. Well, Jack, we have both tasted the bitters, as 
well as the sweets of love ; with this difference only, that 
you always prepared the bitter cup for yourself, while I — 

Lyd. Was always obliged to me for it, hey ! Mr. 
Modesty? But, come, no more of that — our happiness is 
now as unalloyed as general. 

Jul. Then let us study to preserve it so : and while 
Hope pictures to us a flattering scene of future bliss, let us 
deny its pencil those colours which are too bright to be 
lasting. When hearts deserving happiness would unite 



iS.j 



The Rivals, 



theii fortunes, Virtue would crown them with an unfading 
garland of modest hurtless flowers ; but ill-judging Passion 
will force the gaudier rose into the wreath, whose thorn 
offends them when its loaves are dropped ! 

[Exeunt omnes. 







LIBRARY 



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